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A COLLECTION in somc respects similar to this was niaije by 
the Abb6 Batteux in 1771, and published at Paris in two vol- 
umes. Besides Horace, Vida, and Boileau, it contained Aris- 
totle's Poetics, and was entitled Les Quatre Poetiques. The 
translations were by Batteux, and in French prose. The notes 
are partly original and partly selected ; some are in Latin, 
some in French ; and they are of all degrees of helpfulness. 
Batteux's collection is now virtually inaccessible, and, were it 
common, would not appeal strongly to the English-speaking 
student. Considering the historic importance and intrinsic 
value of these treatises, there seemed, then, a sufficient reason 
for joining them anew. The exclusion of Aristotle has been 
dictated by the impossibility of sufficiently illustrating his trea- 
tise within the necessary limits of space, and by the fact that 
the Latin tradition admits of clearer exposition when segre- 
gated from Che chief source of Hellenic theory. 

For the text of Horace I have relied chiefly upon Wickham, 
though I have collated Orelli's third edition, and have here 
and there adopted a reading of his. The analytical summa- 
ries in the notes are also by Wickham. The notes to this part 
include, as will be seen, the chief paraphrases by Pope and 
Byron of passages from the Ars Poetica, as contained re- 
spectively in the Essay on Criticism and the Hints from 



Horace. They are not onlj' various renderings, but are often 
interpretative of the text, and serve to illustrate the continuity 
of Horatian influence in the English verse of the last two cen- 
turies. The whole of the Horatian part — text, translation, and 
notes — has been read in proof by my friend and colleague. 
Professor Edward P. Morris, and may therefore be assumed 
to have passed the scrutiny of a much more considerable 
expert in these matters than I can, in reason, ever hope to 

For the text of Vida I have had before me four editions : 
Tristram's second edition (Oxford, 1723), the London edition 
of 1732, Pope's Selecta Poemata Italonim (London, 1740), 
and Batteux's Les Quatre Poetiques (Paris, 1771). For the 
loan of the latter to the Yale Library I am indebted to the 
Librarian of the Boston Athenjeum. These texts are sub- 
stantially the same, the only important variant that I have 
noted being in Bit. 2, 1. 97, where the first and third men- 
tioned have et, and the others aut. In words like lacryma and 
simulacrum, the first and third have ck, the others c. Unim- 
portant differences are Tibur, Batteux, Tybur, all the others ; 
cxco, ed. 1723, eaco, all the others, etc. The translation has 
been taken from Scott's edition of Dryden, Vol. xv. pp. 230- 
265, one or two obvious errors having been corrected. The 
notes are drawn from no one source, though much assistance 
has been derived from the edition of 1723. 

About the text of Boileau there is virtually no question. 
Chalmers' English Poets has fiimished the translation. The 
chief single source of information for the notes was found in 
the Amsterdam edition of 1718. 


The punctuation of texts and translations has been freely 
changed in the interest of perspicuity, and the orthography of 
the English versions has been brought to a common and mod- 
em standard. 

Id conclusion, I venture to hope that the present compilation 
may do something to promote a sounder knowledge of poetic 
processes and theory, as much by incitement to independent 
thought as by the imposition of authoritative canons. Nay, 
unless it incite to independent thought, how can any canon 
impose itself on a free and active intelligence ? 

Yale Univkbsitv. 

July 4. iB9>. 

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Introduction « 

Illustrative Comments xix 

Vida xxix 

Boilesfl xxxvii 

The Translations and Translators liv 

Horace's Art of Poetrv i 

ViDA's Art of Poetry 39 

Book 1 39 

Book II 77 

Book III ii8 

• "BoiLEAU's Art ^f Poetrv 159 

Canto 1 159 

Canto II 173 

Canto III 185 

Canto IV. 209 

Notes 225 

Horace 215 

Vida.^ 252 

Boileau 268 

Index 293 

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There can be no doubt that after Roman authors had been 
schooled by Grecian art, they forfeited in large measure so 
much of instinctive sublimity as was theirs by birthright. Had 
it ever been at their command — and such writers as Lucretius, 
nay, even Catullus, show that the assumption is not an idle one 
— the ' large utterance of the early gods ' was gone with the 
coming of the foreign Olympians and of all that the latter 
represented. Henceforth, save for the frigid mouthings of im- 
perfectly naturalized Spaniards, the ideal of the poet was grace, , 
moderation, fine workmanship. 

But not only did the Romans lose with their political and 
literary independence a large share of their ancient earnestness 
and fervor, but they failed to acquire some of the most impor- 
tant qualities in which their Greek masters excelled. It would 
be too much to say that they were cheated, or that they cheated 
themselves, in their appropriation of Hellenic spoils, but it 
cannot be gainsaid that, in their quest for beauty, proportion, 
and deUcacy in style and composition, they omitted certain of 
the weightier matters which they might have found in their 
models, the simplicity, rapidity, and sustained nobleness of the 
Greek epic, the opulence, elevation, strength, and swiftness of 
the Greek triumphal ode. 

In a certain sense, then, the Hellenic discipline made the 
Romans un-Hellenic. Nor is the explanation far to seek. The 
imitable and compassable qualities of a work of art are always 

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matters of detail, rarely or never the vital and animating prin- 
ciple. Hence, where grandeur is present in a composition, it 
springs directly from the soul of the artist. Taking thought 
will add no cubit to the moral stature of the thinker, and just 
as little to that of his literary product. The labor of the file 
confers no majesty, and indeed we have seen works, like those 
of Michael Angelo in the Chapel of the Medici, in which the 
sublimest ideality is attained by incompleteness. Self-restraint 
may be the condition of irreproachable beauty, but a certain 
splendid audacity is essential to the expression of sublimity. 
This view is abundantly confirmed by the writers of the Augus- 
tan age of Rome, Where is Virgil most impressive? Is it 
not in passages where the lines are dictated by a proud patriot- 
ism, passages which fling a scornful defiance at the elder civil- 
ization? Is it not where he reverts to the ancient Roman 
strain, and falls back upon that which was primitive and funda- 
mental in the Roman nature, the consciousness of imperial 
function and destiny ? 

Eicudent alii spiranlia mollius aera. 
Credo equidem, vivos ducent de marmore vuUus, 
Orahunt causas melius, caeiique meatus 
Desciihent radio et surgentia sidcra dicent: 
Tu regere imperio populos, Romane, memento; 
Hae tibi erunt artes — pacisque inponere morem, 
Parcere subjectis, et debellare superbos. 

Horace was most assiduous in polishing his compositions, and 
recommends, as his Art of Poetry teaches us, a similar labor to 
others, but he was well aware that industry is no substitute for 
native endowment, and confesses as much in the Second Ode 
of the Fourth Book, where he compares himself with Pindar. 

e who to Pindar 

height attempts Ic 

ike Icarus, with 

waxen pinion 


is pathless way, 

nd from the 


ailing shall leave to azure seas 




As when a river, swollen by sudden showers, 

O'er iU known bonks bom aame Steep roounlain pours. 

So in profound, unmeasurable song 

The deep-mouthed Pindar, foaming, pouis along. 

Well he deserves Apollo's laureled crown, 
Whether new words he rolls enraptured down 
Impetuous through the dilh)'rambic strains. 
Free from all taws but what himself ordains; 

Whether in lofty tone subhme he sings 
The immortal gods or god-descended kings 
With death deserved who smote the Centaurs dire. 
And quenched the fierce Chimaera's breath of fire. 

But, like a bee, which through the breezy groves 
With feeble wing and idle murmurs roves. 

Sits on the bloom, and with unceasing toil 
From thyme sweet -breathing culls his flowery spoil. 
So I — weak bard! — round Tiber's lucid spring, 
Of humbler strain laborious verses sing. 

And where in Horace shall we meet with the passion thai 
breathes in Sappho's immortal ode? 

Speechless I gaze. The flame within 
Runs swift o'er all my qnivering skin; 
My eyeballs swim; with iliizy din 

My brain reels round; 
And cold drops fall; and tremblings frail 
Seize every limb; and grassy pale 
I grow; and then — together fail 

Both sight and sound. 

Where, in any Latin poet, shall we listen to the ethereal rapture, 
the melodious intoxication, of the Chorus of Aristophanes in 
the Birds? 

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Cease, my mate, from slumber now; 
Let the sacted hymn-noCes flovt, 
Wailing with thy voice divine. 
Long-wept Itya, mine and thine. 
So, when thy brown beak is thrilling 
With that holy music-trilling, 
Through Ihe woodbine's leafy bound 
Swells the pure melodious sound 
To the throne of Zeus; and there 
Phrebus of the golden hair 
Hearing, to thine elegies 
With awakened chords replies 
On his ivory-claspSd lyre, 
Stirring all the Olympian quire; 
Till from each immortal tongue 
Of that blessed heavenly throng 
PeaU Ibe full harmonious song. 

What the Augustan poets learned from the Greeks, then, was 
so much of literary art as can be taught — as can be taught to 
ao alien race, endowed by nature with gifts at once greater than 
and inferior to those of their teachers. The virile force which 
conquered the world they could learn to subdue in expression, 
to manipulate as the energies of steam are manipulated through 
the complexities of cunning machinery, to expend upon the 
carving of the cherry-stones of verse, or even upon the construc- 
tion and elaboration of an epic like the ^neid. Horace is the 
schoolmaster of this doctrine, and there can be no question that, 
in assuming this function, he rendered an essential service to his 
people, and to the races whom they, in their turn, were to 
instruct in civility. The elements of poetic criticism, the 
higher mechanics of verse, the necessity of unity, of propor- 
tion, of fidelity to the obvious and unmistakable traits of nature 
— meaning by that human nature — this is the substance of 
Horace's teaching. The Latin formulas of artistic verse-making 
were, if not fully wrought out, at least sketched or suggested 



in this somewhat rambling epistle which, from the time of Quin- 
tilian, some three-quarters of a century later, has bome the 
title of the Ait of Poetry. 

Horace's little treatise is full of 'winged words,' Many 
phrases and single lines, illustrating his ' callida junctuia,' or 
remarkable as the adequate and almost inevitable expression of 
an enduring thought, linger in the memory. Who does not 
know these proverbial catchwords, such as ' purpureus pannus,' 
' jus et norma loquendi,' ' decies repetita placebit ' ? They are 
as nails fastened by a master of assemblies, meant to stay 
where they were fixed, and fulfilling in this sense the pur- 
pose of their author. 

The Revival of Learning is ofl:en thought of as a return to the 
Greek. Yet it was, in its main current and tendency, rather a 
renewal of interest in the Latin as literature. Upon this point 
the testimony of Mark Pattison (' Isaac Casaubon,' pp. 507, 5 ro, 
523) will be regarded as weighty: "In the fifteenth century, 
'educated Europe' is but a synonym for Italy. What litera- 
ture there was outside the Alps was a derivative from, or 
dependent of, the Italian movement. The fact that the move- 
ment originated in the Latin peninsula was decisive of the 
character of the first age of classical learning (1400-1550). 
It was a revival of Latin, as opposed to Greek literature. It is 
now well understood that the fall of Constantinople, though an 
influential incident of the movement, ranks for nothing among 
the causes of the Renaissance. What was revived in Italy of the 
fifteenth century was the taste of the schools of the early 
Empire — of the second and third century. ... As Italy had 
been the home of classical taste in the first period, France be- 
came the home of classical learning in the second. ... It 
needed two centuries more of spc-lative effort in Europe, before 
philologians could go back to Greek philosophy with the key of 
it in their hands. It is only indeed within the present century 
that learning has grown strong enough to cope with the exposi- 

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tion of Aristotle, and an edition of the Aristotelic encyclopedia 
is still a vision of the future," 

By the middle of the sixteenth century the French were 
imitating the Art of Poetry, and more than a quarter of a cen- 
tury earlier Vida was adapting Quintilian and extracting rules 
from the practice of Virgil, that Italy might not go astray in the 
composition of its epics, whether Latin or Italian. Aristotle 
was not wholly ignored, but neither was he well understood by 
those whom the nations recognized as the supreme arbiters of 
taste. The ' Augustan ' ages of Italy, France, and, we may add, 
England, were Roman in sentiment and aspiration. Excep- 
tions seem only to prove the rule, Ronsard imitated Pindar 
and Anacreon, but Malherbe quickly blighted his fame, and 
restrained the too impetuous soarings of the Gallic Muse. Not 
till the French Romantic school of the first half of our century 
threw off the shackles of the Latin tradition was Ronsard 
rehabilitated in public esteem, Shakespeare, at his best a Greek 
in limpidity and pregnancy of utterancfe, was too bold and 
irregular for Pope and Addison. The Greek genius had 
breathed, like Spring, for a few lovely days over Western Eu- 
rope, and the thickets were becoming alive with jubilant voices, 
when all too quickly matron Summer, in the person of the 
world-weary literature of the Empire, swept majestically up, 
struck drought to the heart of the year, hushed the wild war- 
blings, and diffused a uniform soberness and sereness over 
meadow and woodland. Pegasus was put into harness, and set 
to drawing vulgar loads. In simple prose, poetry was forced to 
become pedestrian, regular, methodical. 

It would be an error to regard this restraint and sobriety as 
an unmixed evil. The northern nations had become habituated 
to the sway of Roman Christianity, and were not yet prepared 
for the more primitive and elementary forms of their faith. No 
more, when just emergent from the Middle Ages and the 
mediaeval conceptions of literature, were they fully ripe for the 

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appropriation of the purer Greek beauty. Their sublimity was 
but too apt to become rhapsody, their wit to become conceit, 
and their simplicity a merely puerile naivete. The Roman dis- 
cipline was a schoolmaster to bring them to Hellenic freedom 
and fulness. Thus considered, we see its significance and 
utility, and can only be thankful that it was, and was vigor- 
ously exercised. 

But these treatises are more than historic docuuents, testi- 
fying to a state of things which has passed away. Ih that 
aspect they are indispensable, as disclosing the principles 
which, with varying authority in different countries, have held 
sway from Tasso to Leopardi, from Malherbe to Victor Hugo, 
and, happily for us — if we except sporadic phenomena, like 
Ben Jonson in the early seventeenth century — from Pope 
only to Bums. They are more than historic documents, be- 
cause successive periods of literature overlap one another, and a 
poet of Horatian moods may occasionally be caught singing in 
the nineteenth century, nay — who knows? — perhaps even in 
America. They are more, because some part of their spirit and 
meaning is Greek, and therefore less transitory and provisional 
than that which boasts the eternity of Rome. Finally, they are 
more, because some part of their content is perennially true, 
irrespective of its local or temporal origin, because their form is 
imperishable, and therefore because men will continue to peruse 
and discuss them so long as poetry is honored. 

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[Batteux, Les Qua/res PoeHgues, i, 1-3,] 

Of all the ancient poets there is none who is more read than 
Horace, and of all the poems of Horace there is none which 
better deserves to be read and pondered with care than his 
Art of Poetry. It is the code of reason for all the arts in 
general; it is good taste reduced to principles. 

Notwithstanding, the poet did not intend to give us in this 
work a complete treatise on poetry. W^iust not suffer our- 
selves to be misled. It is an epistie tnaE he addressed to 
Lucius Piso, a man of taste, one of the first men in Rome, and 
to his two sons, the elder of whom was a man grown, perfectly 
capable of doing his own thinking and of directing himself. It 
was accordingly not a time to dwell upon details, reason on the 
nature of poetry, distinguish its genera aAd species, examine 
the mode of constructing plots or poetic actions, etc, Piso 
and his sons did not need the instructions of Horace upon all 
these points, which were everywhere explained, by all the mas- 
ters, in all the treatises on poetry, Greek and others, of which 
there were then no lack. What was expected from Horace 
was acute opinions, but not more acute than profound, select 
rules, the observationsof a genius, the judgments of a master, — 
in a word what the most cultivated talent of the inost cultivated 

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century of Rome would teach if he should condesceud to give 
instruction, and what the ablest masters, and even the best 
books, did not teach. 

[Sellar, Horace and the Elegiae Poets, pp. 110-115] 

In the Ars Poetica Horace assumes the office of a literary 
critic more formally than either in the Epistle to Augustus or 
in that to Florus. The epistolary has developed into the 
didactic form ; or rather there is a kind of compromise between 
them. Three-fifths of the poem are almost purely didactic ; 
the style in that part of the poem is more compact, sententious, 
and impersonal, than in any of the other Epistles ; the irony 
and the conversational manner of his other Episdes are alike 
absent. This purely didactic part seems to be a resume of 
Greek criticism on the drama, ultimately, perhaps, based on 
the doctrines of Aristotle, but, according to Porphyrion, really 
made up of selections from an Alexandrian critic, Neoptolemus 
of Parium. It contains general piecepts applicable to all 
artistic creation, particularly to poetry as representative of 
action ; and many technical directions, specially applicable to 
tragedy, are given. Attention is also drawn to the style suit- 
able to the satyric drama. Though much of the illustration of 
this part of the poem is probably due to Horace himself, yet 
in the general principles which he lays down he seems to be a 
mere exponent of the canons of Greek criticism. How far, 
besides being an exponent, he is also a translator, can only be 
conjectured, but certain phrases, such as ' dominantia nomina,' 
and ' communia ' in the phrase ' difficile est proprie communia 
dicere,' look like translations ; and the arrangement of the 
materials su^ests the notion of a composition based on selec- 
tions from a continuous work, rather than of an organic whole 
growing out of a definite conception of his subject and a defi- 
nite plan of exposition. Perhaps we should not be wrong in 

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referring the general principles applicable to at) poetry, such as 
those on the paramount importance of the choice and concep- 
tion of the subject, and on the dependence of the method of 
treatment on that conception — 

as well as the technical precepts on the functions of the chorus, 
the division of the play into five acts, etc., to the Greek orig- 
inal ; while the directions as to expression, where he reverts 
again to the old controversy on the relative merits of the new 
and old poets, may be regarded as Horace's own contribution 
to criticism, based on his own practice and that of the best of 
his contemporaries. In any case we have in the first part of 
the poem not indeed a methodical treatise on the art of poetry, 
nor a perfectly planned and articulated didactic poem, but a 
series of sound principles on the conception of a dramatic 
action, the evolution of a plot, the consistent presentation of 
character, propriety and variety of style, regularity and variety 
of metrical etfect, which might serve as a guide to those who 
were endeavoring to substitute for the old tragedy of Ennius 
and Accius a more legitimate drama, not servilely following, 
but more nearly conforming to, the great models of the Attic 
stage. If the Roman drama was to rise to as high a degree of 
perfection as Roman epic and lyric poetry had attained in the 
Augustan age — and to enable it to attain that degree of per- 
fection is the motive of the poem — it could only do so on the 
same conditions as those on which epic and lyric poetry had 
been perfected, by a thorough comprehension of and rigorous 
adherence to the methods of the Greek masters. In the Epistle 
to Augustus, Horace, while seeming to despair of a revival of 
the acted drama on the Roman stage, and while disclaiming 
for himself all thought of dramatic writing, yet assigns the very 
highest place in hterature to the successful dramatist — 

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nie per extentimi foDciB mihi posse videtnr 

Ite poeta, meniii qni pectus inanitei angit, 

liriut, mnlcet, falsa tcirotibas implel, 

Ut magus, et modo me Tfaebis, modo ponit Athtnis. 

The occasion of the young Piso following or aspiring to fol- 
low the fashion set by PoUio and Varius, prompts Horace to 
embody in a treatise written primarily for his guidance the re- 
sults of his reading and of his own reflexion on dramatic 
criticism ; and he proceeds in the remainder of the poem more 
in his own familiar, sometimes ironical style, to offer advice 
which seems as much intended to dissuade him from a:i to en- 
courage him in his task. He glides almost insensibly from the 
earlier to the latter part of his subject- Starting from a refer- 
ence to the careless workmanship of Roman poets in their use 
of Greek metres, and the careless criticism of their audiences, 
he proceeds to show in his own language and from his own ob- 
servation what goes to the making of a poet, and what consti- 
tutes good and bad taste — 

Unile parenlur opes, quid alat furmetque poetam. 
Quid deceat, tjuid non, quo virlus quo feral error. 

It is in keeping with all the serious convictions of his later 
years that he bases all good writing on a true criticism of life in 
its ethical relations — 

Scribendi recle saperc est et principium et Tons — 

and that he ranks first in these relations the duties of patriotism 
and friendship — 

Qui didicit palri^'e quid debeal et quid amicis. 

The poet's aim should be to combine pleasure with instruc- 
tion. A few minor faults may be excused in a long poem, yet 
poetry is the one accomplishment in which mediocrity is in- 
tolerable. You are not called upon to be a poet, he says to 

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Piso, and you have too much sense to undertake anything 
against the grain of your natural capacity — 

Tu nihil invita dices faciesve Minerva, 

Yet if you do write, submit your work to experienced critics, 
and ' keep it back for nine years' before publishing it. Poetry 
in days of old was purely a divine gift. It was by ' the sacred 
poet, the revealer of the will of the Gods,' that the elements of 
civilization were introduced — 

Sic honor et notnen divinis vattbus atque 

Next Homer and Tyrtaeus roused men by their verse to bat- 
tles ; then oracles were uttered in verse ; finally lyrical poetry 

and the drama came as the solace of men resting from their 
labors. Genius, the divine gift, is thus the first condition of 
poetic success ; but mere genius, without art, is ineffective — 

ego ncc studium sine divite vena, 
Nee rude quid possil video ingcnium. 

Yet though success in every other accomplishment is sought 
by discipline, labor, and self-denial, men appear to think that 
they can write without taking any trouble. If any one read his 
poems to Quintilius, he frankly pointed out the faults, and urged 
correction of them. If the author defended his faults, he left 
him in his self-satisfaction and took no more interest in him. 
An honest critic will put a mark against lines that are lifeless, 
harsh, unpolished or obscure, and will insist on the pruning of 
all unnecessary ornament. He will become an Aristarchus, and 
will not fear giving offense to his friend. Sensible men do not 
like to have anything to do with poets who cannot submit to 
criticism. They let them go their own course and come to 
grief in their own way. The bad poet scares away the edu- 
cated and uneducated alike by his persecution. If he does 

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secure a listener, he sticks to him like a leech ukI bores him 
to death by his recitatioDS — 

tenet ocdditque legectdo 
Non misEura cutem, nisi plena cnioris, himdo. 

The work as a whole is hardly to be judged either as a syste- 
matic didactic poem, or as a ^miliar epistle. The one form 
imperceptibly passes into the other. It has sometimes been 
supposed that the work was left unfinished and published 
posthumously. There is no evidence to establish this conclu- 
sion. In point of execution the work is as finished as any in 
Latin literature. It is the maturest specimen of that style 
which Horace uses in serious discussion and exposition, but 
more compact and sententious than in the other literary 
Epistles. 'ITie doctrines themselves and their expression bear 
the mark of having been long weighed and considered. The 
expression of them has an authoritative, almost oracular char- 
acter. The ditKcully in tracing a connected line of argument 
or one definite aim in the poem may be attributed rather to his 
love of conciseness, and his preference of a familiar to a more 
formal style of exposition, than to any want of completeness in 
working out his plan. Horace was not a systematic reasoner 
like Lucretius. It was a principle of art with him to avoid or 
make the most sparing use of those formulae, so largely used by 
Lucretius and afler him by Virgil, by which the transitions 
from one line of thought to another are clearly marked. He 
may have begun the poem with the intention of writing a sys- 
tematic didactic poem on tragedy. For this he found an ex- 
ample in the old national literature — the Didascalica of 
Accius — and for some of his materials and method he may have 
had recourse to an Alexandrian model, as Virgil had to more 
than one in the composition of his didactic poem. But before 
completing more than half his task he fails back, without ceas- 
ing to be didactic, into the more familiar attitude of one offer- 

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ing friendly advice, not based on books but on his own experi- 
ence, to a particular person in whom he is interested. He 
knows pierfectly well that genius and insight cannot be commu- 
nicated by instruction. What can be done is to impress the 
necessity of avoiding the besetting sin of Roman authors, care- 
less composition, and contentment with a low standard of good 
writing. This he had already urged in the Satires and in the 
Epistle to Augustus, Perfection of workmanship is what he in- 
culcates by precept and example. If a man has neither genius 
nor taste, there is no call on him to write and become one of 
the nuisances of society. It is not so much by conformity to 
technical rules — though they have a negative value in the way 
of restraining extravagant conception and execution — as by 
having a high standard of accomplishment and sparing no pains 
to attain it, that the Roman drama may be raised to as high a 
pitch of perfection as other branches of literature. Genius is 
the indispensable condition of success ; but genius is ineffective 
without culture, especially ethical culture, and without disci- 
pline, especially discipline in correcting errors, pruning redun- 
dancies, and remedying defects of style. 

[Lonsdale and Lee, Works of Horace, pp. 203-205.] 

But this is certain, that with little apparent effort, and little 
trouble, except, no doubt, the careful correction of particular 
expressions, Horace has given us an immortal treatise. Truly 
has Keightley called it the Art of Criticism, rather than the 
Art of Poetry. The same may be said of Boileau's Art of 
Poetry, Pope has properly named his treatise an Essay on 
Criticism. Walckenaer says that Vida's Poetics have received 
the praises of Scaliger, that they are written in a florid and 
elegant style, and in verses that imitate the Vii^lian rhythm, 
but that they are weak and diffuse, and violate the Horatian 
maxim, ' In all your precepts remember to be brief.' This feult 

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of difiuseQess cannot justly be found either with Boileau or 
Pope. Both these writers are clear, correct, terse, and to the 
point. They are elegant, but do not sacrifice other qualities 
to elegance. They both have a large share of the sense and 
judgment of the Latin writer. They are not without his liveli- 
ness ; at any rate, the English poet is not. While Horace owes 
little or nothing to Aristotle's Poetics, the two modem authors 
owe very much to Horace, and Boileau in particular is a close 
imitator. As Pope says of him, ' He still in right of Horace 
sways.' Indeed, parts of his Art are almost translations of 
Horace, and happy ones too. Boileau, like Horace, does not 
deny that genius is necessary for a poet, but dwells much on 
the importance of art. He is the strong advocate of common 
sense, and of the avoidance of all extremes. He is quite the 
writer of the Augustan age of France, and has a relation to 
Louis XIV. not altogether unlike that of Horace to Augustus. 
He has the same distaste for pompous pretensions in poetry. 
He warns poets against flatterers as strongly as Horace does. 
He also speaks of the various kinds of poetry, and their dif- 
ference. He follows his master closely and happily in his 
description of the characteristics of the ages of men. For all 
that, curiously enough, he gives only four lines to the express 
mention of Horace, to whom he owes so much, lines too with- 
out any particular point In them. Voltaire, who styles the 
Satires of Boileau the failure of his youth, speaks of his Epistles 
as fine, and of his Art of Poetry as admirable. The praise is 
deserved, and comes from one who on such a subject as the 
Epistles of Horace is a good judge, though on many other sub- 
jects, as on the Bible, Shakespeare, and Calderon, a very bad 
one. Still, though Boileau, like Horace, is clear, neat, sensible, 
correct, though to both writers may be applied the line : 

Si j'ecris quatfe mots, j'en eflacefai trois, 
yet is he wonderfully inferior to the Roman poet, and leaves, at 

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least on an Ei^tshman, tbe iin[»cs»on ot weariness, caused no 
doabt in part bf tbe want of variety in his stfle^ and by a Uck 
of vigor and spirit. 

Most thai may be satd of Boilean's production is applicable 
to P(^'s Essay on Critictsm, a treatise composed in the 
same style and manner. Popc is the writer of the Ai^sbui 
age of England. In older and regularity and the compleleness 
of his plan. Pope is superior to Horace ; some of his lines are 
models of neatness of exprcsaon ; specially, in his illustration 
of the manner in which the soond should be an echo to the 
sense, he has written some of the most perfect lines in any 
poetiy ; ' he feels, and admirably expresses his feeling, that to 
make a good critic the heart should be right as well as the head ; 
and that pride, prejudice, and envy are almost as a hin- 
drance to a tnie judgment in hterature, as dulness and ignorance. 
And yet even Pope's Essay on Criticism, with all its merits, 
is wanting in the variety, the hfe, the playfulness, the graceful 
negligence, the happy ease, of the inimitable Latin author. 

Lord Byron's Hints from Horace is an adaptation of the 
Art of Poetiy in the manner of Pope ; or, as he himself curiously 
expresses it. An Allusion in English Verse to the F.pistle Ad 
Pisones de Arte Poetica. The work is a complete fiiihirc, 
though written by a great poet ; it is for the most part common- 
place and dull; it wants the ease and delicacy of Horace, 
Pope's epigrammatic felicity of phrase and command of antith- 
esis, and the concise and studied carefulness of workmanship 
common to both the earlier poels. For the poetical genius of 
Byron, though more powerful and splendid than that of Horace 
or Pope, is yet deficient in their peculiar excellencies : and 
perhaps the consciousness of this deficiency was in a great 
measure the cause of that extravagant admiration of Pope which 
Byron felt throughout his life. It is remarkable that liyron 
himself preferred the Hints from Horace to the first two cantos 
' But in this he was anticipated by Vida. — Kli. 

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of Childe Harold, which he had written about the same time ; 
and after an interval of nine years, during which he had written 
most of those works which have given him his fame, he says, 
alluding to these Hints, ' I wrote better then than now,' This 
preference for their inferior writings has been not tmcommon 
with poets ; so Milton preferred his Paradise Regained to 
Paradise Lost, and Petrarch his Latin Poems to his Sonnets. 
Notwithstanding his veneration of Pope, Byron seems to have 
had little sympathy with Horace, any more than with Virgil. 
In the latter poet he can only see ' that harmonious plagiary 
and miserable flatterer,' and of the former he speaks as ' Horace, 
whom I hated so ' ; and he goes on to speak of ' the curse ' that 
it is, 

To comprehend, but never love thy verse. 

Yet in the same passage he well describes the characteristic of 
Horace's style of satire (in words somewhat similar to those of 
Persius), as 

Awakening without wounding the touched heart. 
Horace was a Greek scholar, an admirer of Greek literature, 
and yet we cannot account him as one able to enter into the 
spirit of such writers as jEschylus or Sophocles. His rules 
about poetry are not applicable to all classical, sttll less are they 
prospectively to modem, poetry, except to a certain part of it. 

The poefs eye, i 
Doth glance froi 

With such a poet as that, Horace's criticisms have no relation. 
And even the artificial style of poetry owes but little to criti- 
cism. Racine would not learn much from the sensible advice 
of Boileau.' Genius inspires the poet, not merely with noble 
thoughts, but with untaught shapes, the forms in which suitably 
to clothe these thoughts. The good that criticism can do is 
negative rather than positive. It is something to deter those 
' Sainle-Beuve thinks otherwise on this point. — Ed. 

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who have no genius for writing pocdy from trying to be poets, 
and to warn such that heaven and earth and bootsellers alike 
condemn mediocrity in poetry. And if good poets are rare, 
so are good critics. Compositions such as those of Boileau 
and Pope, in which sense, wit, terseness of expression are found, 
give pleasure. And Horace's Art of Poetry is fiiU of informa- 
tion on subjects long past, is not unworthy of the author of the 
Satires and Epistles, is full of kindly wit and lively wisdom, and 
has furnished succeeding ages with many a quotation applied to 
subjects quite difierent from that on which the line was origi- 
nally written. 

[Pope, Essay on Criticism, 697-708.] 

But sfc ! each Muse, in Leo's golden days, 
Starts from hei trance and trims her withered bays; 
Rome's ancient Genius, o'er its ruins spread, 
Shakes off the dust and rears his reverend hesd. 
Then Sculpture and her sister arts revive, 
* Stones leaped to form, and rocks began to live; 

With sweeter notes each rising temple rung; 
A Raphael painted and a Vida sung — 
Immortal Vida, on whose honored brow 
The poet's bays and critic's ivy grow; 
Cremona now shall ever boast thy name, 
As next in place to Mantua, next in fame ! 

[DRVDEfJ, Discourse on Satire.'] 

But in an epic poet, one who is worthy of that name, besides 
an universal genius is required universal learning, together with 
all those qualities and acquisitions which I have named above, 
and as many more as I have through haste or negligence omitted. 

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And, after all, he must have exactly studied Homer and Virgil 
as his patterns, Aristotle and Horace as his guides, and Vida 
and Bossu as their commentators, with many others (both Italian 
and French criticsj which I want leisure here to recommend. 

[RoscoE, Life of Leo the Tenth, 2. 154-157.] 

Marco Girolamo Vida was a native of Cremona. Some di- 
versity of opinion has arisen as to the time of his birth, which 
event has generally been placed about the year 1470, whilst 
some have contended that it could not have occurred until the 
year 1490. The reasons adduced by different authors have 
served to refute the opinions of their opponents, without estab- 
lishing their own ; and as Vida was, as it will hereafter appear, 
certainly bom some years after the first-mentioned time, and 
some years before the latter, his nativity may be placed with 
sufficient accuracy about the middle of these two very distant 
periods. His family was of respectable rank, and, although his 
parents were not wealthy, they were enabled to bestow upon 
their son a good education, for which purpose he was succes- 
sively sent to several of the learned academies with which 
Italy was then so well provided. The first specimen of the 
talents of Vida in Latin poetry appeared in a collection of 
pieces on the death of the poet Serafino d'AquiJa, which hap- 
pened in the year 1500; towards which he contributed two 
pieces, which were published in that collection at Bologna, in 
the year 1504. In this publication he is named by his baptis- 
mal appellation. Marc Antonio, which, on his entering into reg- 
ular orders, he changed to that of Marco Girolamo. The mem- 
orable combat between thirteen French and thirteen Italian 
soldiers, under the walls of Barletta, in the year 1503, afforded 
him a subject for a more extensive work ; the loss of which is 
to be regretted, not only as the early production of so elegant 
a writer, but as a curious historical document After having 



made a considerable proficiency in the more serious studies of 
philosophy, theolc^y, and political science, he repaired to 
Rome, where he arrived in the latter part of the pontificate of 
Julius II., and appears to have been a constant attendant on 
those literary meetings which were then held in that city, and 
were continued in the commencement of the pontificate of 
Leo X. Of his larger works, on which his reputation as a Latin 
poet is at this day founded, his three books De Arte Poetica 
were probably the first produced, and these were soon after- 
wards followed by his poem on the growth of silkworms, en- 
titled Bombyx, and by his Scacchise Ludvis, a poem on the 
game of chess. On the last of these poems being shown to 
Leo X., he was delighted beyond measure with the novelty of 
the subject, and with the dignity, ease, and lucid arrangement 
with which it was treated, which appeared to him almost be- 
yond the reach of human powers. He therefore requested to 
see the author, who. was accordingly introduced to him by 
Giammatteo Ghiberti, bishop of Verona, who appears to have 
been his earliest patron, and whom he has celebrated in terms 
of the warmest affection in several of his works. Vida was 
received by the pontiff with particular distinction and kindness, 
admitted as an attendant on the court, and rewarded with 
honors and emoluments ; but that upon which the poet appears 
chiefly to have congratulated himself was that his works were 
read and approved by the pontiff himself. Whether Leo was 
merely desirous of engaging Vida in a subject that might 
call forth all his talents, or whether he wished to raise up a 
rival to Sannazaro, who, he probably suspected, was not favor- 
able to his fame, certain it is that at his suggestion Vida began 
his Christiad, which he afterwards completed in six books, but 
which the pontiff was prevented, by his untimely death, from 
seeing brought to a termination. The future patronage of this 
work was therefore reserved for Clement VIL, under whose 
auspices it was first published in the year 1535, with an apolo- 

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getical advertisement at the close of the work, in which the 
author excuses the boldness of his attempt by inforroiog the 
reader that he was induced to begin and to persevere in his 
undertaking by the solicitations and munificence of the two 
pontiffs, Leo X. and Clement VII., to whose exertions and lib- 
erality he ascribes the revival of literature from its long state of 
torpor and degradation. 

In order to stimulate the poet to terminate this work, or to 
reward him for the progress he had made in it, Clement had 
already raised him to the rank of apostoUcal secretary, and in 
the year 1532 conferred on him the bishopric of Alba. Soon 
after the death of that pontiff Vida retired to his diocese, and 
was present at its defense against the attack of the French in 
the year 1542, where his exhortations and example animated 
the inhabitants successfully to oppose the enemy. After having 
attended in his episcopal character at the council of Trent, and 
taken an active part in the ecclesiastical and political transac- 
tions of the times, he died at his see of Alba, on the twenty- 
seventh day of September, 1566, more respected for his talents, 
integrity, and strict attention to his pastoral duties than for the 
wealth which he had amassed from his preferments. 

Of all the writers of Latin poetry at this period, Vida has 
been the most generally known beyond the limits of Italy. 
This is to be attributed, not only to the fortunate choice of his 
subjects, but to his admirable talent of uniting a considerable 
portion of elegance, and often of dignity, with the utmost facility 
and clearness of style, insomuch that the most complex descrip- 
tions or abstruse illustrations are rendered by him f)erfectly easy 
and familiar to the reader. Of his Virgilian eclogues, the third 
and last is devoted to commemorate the sorrows of Vittoria 
Colonna, on the death of her beloved husband, the Marquis of 
Pescara. Among his smaller poems, his verses to the memory 
of his parents, who both died about the same time, and while 
he was engaged in the successful pursuit of preferment at 

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Rome, display true pathos and beautiful images of filial aflieG- 

The Poetics of Vida, to which he is indebted for so consid- 
erable a part of his reputation both as a poet and as a critic, 
were, on their publication in 1537, addressed by the author to 
the dauphin Francis, son of Francis I., at that time a prisoner 
with his brother Henry, as an hostage for his father at the 
court of Spain ; but this address was not prefixed until several 
years after the termination of the work itself, which was written 
at Rome under the pontificate of Leo X., and originally in- 
scribed to Angelo Dovizio, nephew of the cardinal Bernardo 
da Bibbiena, who afterwards attained also the honor of the 
purple. It has indeed been supposed that this production was 
first printed at Cremona, in the year 1520, and it is certain 
that the fellow-citizens of Vida had requested his permission to 
make use of this work for the instruction of youth, to which he 
expressed his assent in a letter which yet remains ; but although 
it appears from the archives of Cremona that it was actually 
ordered to be printed, yet there is reason to suppose that this 
order was not carried into effect, not a single copy of such an 
edition having hitherto occurred to the notice of any bibliog- 
rapher. The cause of this is perhaps to be attributed to Vida 
himself, who had in his letter given strict injunctions that his 
work should not be made public, and whose subsequent remon- 
strances, when he was acqaainted with the intentions of the 
magistrates of Cremona, may be supposed to have deterred 
them from committing his work to the press. The approba- 
tion which the Poetics of Vida had the good fortune to obtain 
from the most correct and elegant poet of our own country has 
recommended them to general notice ; to which it may be 
added that an excellent English critic [Warton] considers them 
as the most perfect of all the compositions of their author 
and as ' one of the first, if not the very first piece of criti- 
cism that appeared in Italy since the revival of learning.' 

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In his poem of the Chnstiad Vida has avoided the eiror into 
which Sannazaro has fallen in mingling the profane fables of the 
heathen mythology with the mysteries of the Christian religion, 
and, like Milton, seeks for inspiration only from the great 
fountain of life and truth. Although he placed Virgil before 
him as his principal model, and certainly regarded him with 
sentiments next to adoration, as may appear from the conclu- 
sion of the third book of his Poetics, yet he knew how to Rx 
the limits of his imitation ; and, whilst he availed himself of the 
style and manner, and sometimes even of the language of the 
great Mantuan, he sought not to give to his writings a classic 
air by the introduction of such persons and imagery as could 
only violate probability, nature, and truth. Hence, whilst the 
poem of Sannazaro seems to be the production of an idolater 
who believes not in the truths which he affects to inculcate, and 
frequently verges on the confines of indecency or incongruity, 
the writings of Vida display a sincere and fervent piety, a con- 
tempt of meretricious ornament, and an energetic simplicity of 
language, which will secure to them unmingled and lasting 

[SvMONDS, Jienaissame in Italy, The Revival of Learning, 

pp. 471-476.] 

Vida won his first laurels in the field of didactic poetry. 
Vii^lian exercises on the breeding of silkworms and the game 
of chess displayed his faculty for investing familiar subjects 
with the graces of a polished style. Such poems, whether 
written in Latin, or, like the Api of Rucellai, in Italian, gratified 
the taste of the Renaissance, always appreciative of form inde- 
pendent of the matter it invested. For a modem student 
Vida's metrical treatise in three books on the Art of Poetry has 
greater interest, since it illustrates the final outcome of classic 
Studies in the age of Leo. The Poetica is addressed to Francis, 



Dauphin of France, in his Spanish prison. . . . After this 
dedication Vida describes the solace to be found in poetry, and 
adds some precepts on the preparation of the student's mind. 
A rapid review of the history of poetry — the decline of Greek 
inspiration after Homer, and of Latin after Virgil ; the qualities 
of the Silver Age, and the revival of letters under the Medici at 
Florence — serves to show how narrow the standard of Italian 
culture had become between the period of Poliziano, who em- 
braced so much in his sketch of Literature, and that of Vida, who 
confined himself to so little. The criticism is not unjust ; but 
it proves that the refinement of taste by scholarship had resulted 
in restricting students to one or two models, whom they followed 
with servility. Having thus established his general view of the 
poetic art, Vida proceeds to sketch a plan of education. The 
qualities and duties of a tutor are described ; and here we may 
notice howfarVittorino's and Guarino's methods had created an 
ideal of training for Italy. The preceptor must above all things 
avoid violence, and aim at winning the affections of his pupil ; 
it would be well for him to associate several youths in the same 
course of study, so as to arouse their emulation. He must 
not neglect their games, and must always be careful to suit his 
methods to the different talents of his charges. When the 
special studies to be followed are discussed, Vida points out 
that Cicero is the best school of Latin style. He recommends 
the early practice of bucolic verse, and inculcates the necessity 
of treating youthfii! essays with indulgence. These topics are 
touched with more or less felicity of phrase and illustration ; 
and though the subject-matter is sufficiently trite, the good sense 
and kindly feeling of the writer win respect. The first book 
concludes with a peroration on the dignity and sanctity of poets, 
a theme the humanists were never weary of embroidering. 
The second describes the qualities of a good poem, as these 
were conceived by the refined but formal taste of the sixteenth 
century. It should begin quietly, and manage to excite with- 

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out satisfying the curiosity of the reader. Vain displays of 
learning are to be avoided. Episodes and similes must occur at 
proper intervals ; and a frugal seasoning of humor will be found 
agreeable. All repetitions should be shunned, and great care 
should be taken to vary the narrative with picturesque descrip- 
tions. Rhetoric^ again, is not unworthy of attention, when the 
poet seeks to place convenient and specious arguments in the 
mouths of his personages. 

It is difficult in a summary to do justice to this portion of 
Vida's poem. His description of the ideal epic is indeed 
nothing more or less than a relined analysis of the ^neid ; 
and students desirous of learning what the Italians of the six- 
teenth century admired in Virgil, will do well to study its acute 
and sober criticism. A panegyric of Leo closes the second 
book. From this peroration some lines upon the woes of Italy 
may be read with profit, as proving that the nation, conscious 
of its own decline, was contented to accept the primacy of 
culture in exchange for independence. . . , 

The third book treats of style and diction. To be clear and 
varie<l, to command metaphor and allusion, to choose phrases 
colored by mythology and fancy, to suit the language to the 
subject, to vary the metrical cadence with the thought and feel- 
ing, anil to be assiduous in the use of the file are mentioned as 
indisi>ensable to excellence. A peroration on Virgil, sonorous 
and impassioned, closes the whole poem, which, rightly under- 
stood, is a monument erected to the fame of the Roman bard 
by the piety of his Italian pupil. The final lines are justly 
famous. . . . 

Vida's own intellect was clear, and his style jicrspicuous ; but 
his genius was mediocre. His power lay in the disposition of 
materials and in illustration. A precise tnste, formed on Cicero 
and Virgil, and exercisctl with judgment in a narrow sphere, 
satisfied his critical rL'(|uircmcnts. VirjfJl with him was first 
and last, and midst and without end. In a word, he shows 

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what a scholar of sound parts and rhetorical aptitude could 
achieve by the study and imitation of a single author. 

[Pope, Essay on Criticism, 709-712.] 

But soon by impious arms from Lalium chascit, 
Theit ancient bounds the banished Muses paaseil ; 
Thence uts o'er all Ihe noithem worl<l advance. 
But critic-learning flourished most in France ; 
The rules a nalion, born to serve, obeys, 
And Boilean still in tight of Horace sways. 
But we, brave Britons, foreign laws ilespiseil, 
And kept unconqueted, and unciviliiedi 
Fierce for Ihe liberties of wit, and bold. 
We stiU defied the Romans, as of old. 
Yet some there were, among the sounder few 
Of those who less presumed, and better knew, 
Wbo durst assert Ihejuster ancient cause. 
And bere restored wit's fundamental laws. 

[Sainte-Beuve, Cavseries du Lundi, Vol. 6.] 

Within the last twenty-five or thirty years the i>oint of view 
with regard to Boileau has greatly changed. When at the Res- 
toration, that splendid hour of hope and gallant endeavor, new 
generations arrived, and attempted to renovate literary species 
and forms, to broaden the circle of literary ideas and compari- 
sons, they experienced resistance on the part of their predeces- 
sors. Authors estimable indeed, but lagging behind the age, 
other writers much less commendable, and who, in the lifetime 
of Boileau, would have been among the first to receive 
castigatioD at his hands, hoisted the banner of this 'lawgiver of 

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Pamassus,' and, without considering the difference in the age, 
quoted his lines on all occasions like the articles of a code. We 
did then, we who were young — and I only half repent of our 
doings — what it was natural to do. We took Boileau's works 
by themselves ; though few in number, they are unequal in 
vigor ; there are those which betray the youth, and others 
which betray the age of their author. While rendering justice 
to the sound and beautiful portions, our praise was somewhat 
faint, and our hearts did not cleave to the spirit of the man. 
Boileau, as personage and authority, is much more iniportant 
than his work, and a certain effort is necessary to reconstitute 
him in his integrity. In a word, we did not then make a full 
historical study of him, and were half way involved in the con- 
troversies of the period. 

At this later day, the circle of experimentation having been 
rounded, and discussion being exhausted, we return to him 
with pleasure. If I may be permitted to speak of myself, 
Itoileau is one of the men with whom I have been the most oc- 
cupied since I have been engaged in criticism, and with whom 
] have most constantly lived in thought. . . . Boileau realized, 
and made his friends realize, that ' admirable lines do not entitle 
one to disregard those which are to form their context.' Such, 
rightly defined, is his literary achievement. ... Do you 
know what, in our own time, has been wanting to our poets, so 
full of natural abilities at their first appearance, so rich in 
promise and felicitous suggestion? They have needed two 
tilings — a Boileau and an enlightened monarch, the one sec- 
onding and hallowing the other. For lack of them these men 
of talent, conscious of living in an age of anarchy and indisci- 
pline, have not been slow to conduct themselves accordingly ; 
in literal terms, they have conducted themselves, not like noble 
geniuses, nor even like men, but like students off on a vacation. 
The results we have witnessed. 

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[Mabie, Short Studies in Literature, pp. 5-7.] 

So long as literature was a well defined art in the hands of 
such critics as Boileau or of Pope, and their schools, it was 
readily characterized. Certain qualities of form supplied a test 
easily applied — a kind of folding measure which the most 
scantily equipped critic could cairy about in his pocket. But 
this portable system of mensuration failed to take the dimen- 
sions of a number of notable poets, and among them Shake- 
speare ; and it is quite impossible to leave Shakespeare out of 
account in any definition of literature. One can imagine with 
what horror Boileau would have looked over Carlyle — he 
could hardly have looked through him. Among all the literary 
spiecimens arranged with Gallic precision to illustrate the prin- 
ciples which ought to underlie literature, Carlyle would have 
found no place. Boileau would have ruthlessly excluded him from 
the neat, precise, and very diminutive Pantheon of which he con- 
stituted himself the custodian. And yet it is evident that Carlyle 
belongs to literature ; to some of us he was the first to reveal 
the real scope of literature. 

What would Boileau have done with the Kalevala, the Nibe- 
lungen Lied, the Russian popular epics, the Scotch Ballads? 
These wild, free, spontaneous growths from the soil of common 
life would have fared badly at the hands of a critic accustomed 
to the smooth elegance of the Alexandrine verse, to the orderly 
unfolding of the French drama, to the self-conscious, conven- 
tional, and artificial conception of art of which he made him- 
self the mouthpiece ; and yet it is clear enough that these art- 
less works of earlier and unknown poets are not only literature, 
but literature of a very significant and interesting kind. If 
Boileau had been living at the close of the last century, how 
sorely his spirit would have been tried by the interest in Hindu 
literature, then for the first time brought within the knowledge 
of Europeans ! That one should prefer the Sakoontala of 

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Kalidasa to the B^r^nJce of Racine would have filled him with 
deep and painful perplexity. Evidently literature means a 
great deal more to us than it meant to Boileau ; it means so 
much that the task of defining it with scientific accuracy is 
quite beyond us. We have long ago rid ourselves of the idea 
that any particular form or set of forms furnishes an unfailing 
test of the presence or absence of the quality which constitutes 
literature in a book. The essential thing, so far as form is con- 
cerned, is not a reproduction of any accepted model, but the 
excellence which makes a form expressive of beauty or power. 

[MoRLEV, First SkeUh 0/ English Literature, pp. 667-668.] 

Boileau's influence became supreme upon the publication of 
his Art of Poetry (L'Art Po^tique), in 1673. Its four cantos 
embodied his main doctrine as the Poet of Good Sense. In 
idea and execution it was inspired by Horace's Art of Poetry ; 
but its polished maxims, applied specially to French poetry, are 
more systematically arranged. The order of its cantos is ; — 
I. General rules, with a short digression on the history of 
French poetry from Villon to Malherbe. 2. Rules and charac- 
teristics of the eclogue, elegy, ode, sonnet, epigram, balade, 
madrigal, satire, and vaudeville. 3. Rules of tragedy, comedy, 
and epic. 4. General advice to poets on the use of their 
powers ; choice of a critic ; origin, rise, and decline of poetry ; 
praise of Louis XIV. The critical shortcomings of this work, 
which may be said to have given the law for some years to ■ 
French and English literature, nearly all proceed from a whole- 
some but too servile regard for the example of the ancient 
classic writers. The chief authors of Greece and Rome were 
to be as much the models of good literature as the Latin lan- 
guage was a standard of right speech. This led, indeed, to a 
sound contempt of empty triviaUties, but it left the critic with 
faint powers of recognition for a Dante, a Shakespeare, or a 

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Milton. Boileau was even hindered by it from perceiving how 
far Terence was surpassed by his friend Mohfere. His discipUne 
thus tended obviously to the creation of an artificial taste for 
forms of correct writing excellent in themselves, but as means 
of perfect expression better suited to the genius of the French 
than of the English people. He was a true Frenchman, and 
English writers erred by imitation even of his excellence. In 
adopting too readily for a nation Germanic in origin and lan- 
guage forms that harmonized better with the mind and language 
of a Latin race. But, at the same time, they shared with their 
neighbors the benefit of assent to the appeal in his Art Po6- 
tique on behalf of plain good sense against the faded extravagan- 
cies of that period of Italian influence from which life and health 
had departed r 

Evitons ces excJi. Laissons & 1'Italie 
De tons ses faux biillans I'eclBtante folie. 
Tout doit teiulre au Bun Sens. 

These lines declare the living spirit of the poem, in which, if 
we are to see only in one foremost work the altered temper of 
a generation, it may especially be said that the period of Italian 
influence ended and French influence became supreme. 

We are now, therefore, to find in English literature a rising 
race of critics who test everything by I-atin forms. 'l"he English 
must be, for dignity, as Latin as possible in structure, because 
so the French had determined. That was obedience to them 
in the letter, not in the spirit. In origin and structure their 
language was chiefly Latin ; they, therefore, other things being 
equal, preferred words of Latin origin. In origin and structure 
our language is Teutofiic ; and had we really followed their 
example, we should, other things being equal, have preferred 
words of Teutonic origia 

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[Scott, Life of Dry den, ed. Saintsbury, pp. 440-442.] 

About the time of the Restoration, the cultivation of letters 
was prosecuted in France with some energy. But the genius 
of that lively nation being more fitted for criticism than poetry, 
for drawing rules from what others have done, than for writing 
works which might be themselves standards, they were sooner 
able to produce an accurate table of laws for those intending 
to write epic poems and tragedies according to the best Greek 
and Roman authorities, than to exhibit distinguished specimens 
of success in either department ; just as they are said to possess 
the best possible rules for building ships of war, although not 
equally remarkable for their power of fighting them. When 
criticism becomes a pursuit separate from poetry, those who 
follow it are apt to forget that the legitimate ends of the art for 
which they lay down rules are instruction or delight, and that 
these points being attained, by what road soever, entitles a poet 
to claim the prize of successful merit. Neither did the learned 
authors of these disquisitions sufficiently attend to the general 
disposition of mankind, which cannot be contented even with 
the happiest imitations of former excellence, but demands 
novelty as a necessary ingredient for amusement. To insist 
that every epic poem shall have the plan of the Iliad and 
vl'^neid, and every tragedy be fettered by the rules of Aristotle, 
resembles the princijilc of an architect who should build all his 
houses with the same number of windows and of stories. It 
happened too, inevital)ly, tlint the critics, in the pleni potential 
authority which they exercised, often assumed as indispensable 
requisites of the drama or cpopeia circumstances which, in the 
great authorities they quoted, were altogether accidental and 
indifferent. These they erected into laws, and handed down as 
essentials to be observed by all succeeding poets, although the 
forms prescribed have often as little to do with the merit and 
success of the originals from which they are taken, as the shape - 

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of the drinking-glass with the flavor of the wine which it con- 
tains. 'To these encroachments,' says Fielding, after some 
observations to the same purpose, 'time and ignorance, the 
two great supporters of imposture, gave authority; and thus 
many rules for good writing have been established, which have 
not the least foundation in truth or nature, and which com- 
monly serve for no other purpose than to curb and restrain 
genius, in the same manner as it would have restrained the 
dancing-master, had the many excellent treatises on that art 
laid it down as an essential rule that every man must dance in 
chains.' It is probable that the tyranny of the French critics, 
fashionable as the literature of that country was with Charles 
and his courtiers, would have extended itself over England at 
the Restoration, had not a champion so powerfiil as Dryden 
placed himself in the gap. 

[Demogeot, Histoire de la Utteralure fratt^aiit, pp. 426-430.] 

While Racine and Moli&re were enriching France with their 
masterpieces, their friend Boileau Despreaux was teaching the 
public to understand and admire them. Before his day, taste, 
lacking fixed standards, had indiscriminately sanctioned the ex- 
cellent and the mediocre. A multitude of authors without merit 
blocked up the highway of the great writers. Scud^ry was ad- 
mired side by side with Comeille ; false wit, though ridiculed 
by Molifere, was not categorically proscribed and condemned. 
The public venerated the memory of Voiture, and applauded 
the conceits of Saint Amand and Chapelain. It had not yet 
' left ' to Spain and ' to Italy ' 

The daizling folly of all their false splendors. 

The great Comeille himself is perhaps the most striking ex- 
ample of this blending of the worthless with the excellent, of 
bad taste with sublimity. In a word, there were models, but 

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no theory. It was the task of Boileau to ' disentangle the con- 
fused art ' of the seventeenth century, and to assign to each man 
and to every production its proper place in public esteem. It 
is his gloty to have done this with almost infallible judgment, 
with unshrinking courage, and, what is more, to have pro- 
nounced his decisions in so fehcitous a form, and in such per- 
fect language, that we should no more think of recasting than 
of invalidating them. 

The worship of good sense, the supremacy of reason in mat- 
ters of taste, such is the lasting merit of Boileau's teaching. 
This is the common feature which links him with the other 
great men of that age. It is the spirit of Descartes transferred 
to poetry. 

No less do we recognize in bis criticism the more transient 
and accidental characteristics of his epoch. Fond above all 
things of order and regularity, he disciplines poetry as Louis 
XIV. does society, establishes a rigorous system of caste in the 
productions of genius, preaches the nobility of language, and 
insists upon the etiquette of the hemistich and the right divine 
of the cxsura. His mind is just rather than broad, judicial 
rather than profound. He likes to see things in their most 
salient aspect, though it be the narrowest. If he wishes to 
praise Molifere for that jiistness of language which never sacri- 
fices the idea to its expression, he admiringly asks him ' where 
he finds his rimes.' If it is a question of difiiculty in conceiv- 
ing a' plan, the totality of a work of art, in effecting the mutual 
subordination of the various parts, in forming a series, a con- 
nected chain, whose every link, ns Ituffon says, shall represent an 
idea, he exclaims, ' It is a task that kills me by the multi- 
tude of transitions, which constitute, in my judgment, the 
most difficult achievement of poetry.' 

We are prepared to believe that in a century ruled exclu- 
sively by the spirit of society, and whose poets, as a rule, were 
insensible to nature, Boileau formed no exception. It might 

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seem at first glance as if this dt^fect would be of small conse- 
quence in a satirical poet ; nevertheless his criticism suffered 
the consequences of this limitation. A disciple of the ancients, 
he recommends a mythology which he does not understand. 
He mistakenly interprets that pantheism of universal life which 
is the soul of Greek poetry as a system of abstract allegories. 
Not much better does he comprehend the poetic grandeur of 
Catholicism. He rejects the marvelous element in Christianity 
as at once too sacred and too dull, thus calumniating in one 
breath both poetry and Christian dogma. Boileau, in common 
with his contemporaries, had no appreciation of the Middle 
Ages. He betrays a disdainful ignorance of all our old na- 
tional poetry, and would be willing to exclaim, with Louis XIV., 
' That's too old-fashioned ' ; or, better still, ' Out of my sight 
with those Chinese monstrosities.' 

But we must not censure the critic too severely for this aver- 
sion to the age that was passing away. Progress is only to be 
had at this price. New ideas do not assert themselves save by 
the negation of the old ; aloofness passes into hostility. Des- 
cartes scorned the whole of antiquity ; this was merely an ex- 
aggerated form of the supremacy of reason. So Christianity in 
its inception had persecuted polytheism, even in the hterature 
which reflected it. It was in the name of the modern spirit that 
Boileau abjured the whole feudal society, its arts and poetry. 
More Christian than Catholic, more religious than pietistic, it 
was through independence that he subjected himself to the dis- 
cipline of our old masters, the Greeks and the Latins. Authority, 
indeed, he found there, but an authority freely chosen and freely 

The poetical career of Boileau may be divided into three 
periods. In the first, from 1660 to 1668, the young satirist 
attacked bad poets with all the impetuosity of his age, and 
strove to the uttermost against the false taste imported from 
Spain and Italy. It was at this time that he published nine 

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Satires, four of which are exclusively literary, while the others 
directed against the scribblers a. multitude of hits, all the more 
piquant for being unexpected. 'The Satires belong,' says 
Voltaire, ' to the first mamier of this great painter, very infe- 
rior, it is true, to the second, but very superior to that of all the 
writers of his time, if we except Racine.' Let us add that the 
ninth satire, addressed to his ' Esprit,' is equal to the best 
work that Boileau ever did. 

In the second period, from 1669 to 1677, Boileau laid satire 
aside. He had been overthrowing, and was now concerned to 
reconstruct. At this time, in 1674, appeared his Art Po^tique, 
in which he formulated and co-ordinated the literary doctrines 
to which he had just assured a triumph. The same year he 
published the first four songs of the Lutrin, an ingenious and 
elegant sally, and a masterpiece of versification worthy of a less 
trivial subject. Already a milder temper animated the critic, and 
his raillery was more sprightly. He now wrote the first nine 
Epistles, of which the third, addressed to Racine, combines in 
the highest degree all the excellent qualities which assure the 
glory of the great French satirist. 

After this work, Boileau, appointed, in conjunction with 
Racine, historiographer to the king, interrupted, like his col- 
league, his poetical labors. During the sixteen years that fol- 
lowed, he contented himself with publishing, in 1681, the last 
two cantos of the Lutrin, He did not re-enter his career until 
1693 ; but, less fortunate than his illustrious friend, he was then 
far from discovering a new vein. It is here that the third 
period of his life begins. He reappeared before the public 
with the Ode to Namur, a feeble and unfortunate lyrical essay. 
He composed three frigid satires, against Women, on Honor, 
and against Equivocation ; finally he composed his last three 
epistles, one of which, that which closes the collection, and 
has as its subject the Love of God, no longer offers anything 
attractive either in inspiration or style. Sage as he was, he 

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lacked that rarest gift of wisdom, the knowleii^ of when to 

Boileau is a tremendous fact in the history of hteniture. He 
established the national taste, and was able to isolate and place 
in reUef its most vital, most permanent characteristic, its witty, 
bantering good sense. He ennobled the ancient French spirit 
of Villon and Maiot by teaching it the elegant language of clas- 
sical antiquity and all the proprieties of the wittiest of cowrts, 
He is the citizen of Paris in the great gallery of Versailles, 

These advantages were purchased at some cost. The belief 
has been too prevalent that Boileau traced the definitive Uniits 
of art. There has been too much calling of him ' the lawgiver 
of Parnassus.' Rather was he the teacher of his century ; and, 
in his century itself, he taught the writers less than the public. 
Without doubt his conversations must have been precious to 
his illustrious friends, in whom he instilled discontent with 
themselves and whom he taught to ' rime with pains ' ; but his 
writings are especially designed to train the reader, and they 
are perfectly adapted to that object. His criticism is clean 
cut, simple, intelligible to all, more negative than inspiring ; it 
reduces the principles of art to those of common sense. It 
is piquant, bantering, calumnious, wholly free from technical 
terms. Finally, it casts its precepts into imperishable verse, as 
resplendent with metaphors as with reason ; it coins them into 
proverbs, and stamps them, whether we will or no, upon the 

[BRimETifeRE, V Estheiique de Boileau, in the Revue des deux 
Mondes 93 (18S9). 662-663, 680-685.] 

There are greater names in our literary history than Boileau's, 
and happily many of them ; others are more popular, others 
certainly more beloved ; but I do not know that there is any 
more in vogue, nor perhaps, in certain respects, more eminent. 

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Half of his verses became maxims or proverbs at their birth, 
entered into use or into the current of the language, and con- 
stitute still a part of the vocabulary of conversation. Three or 
four generations of industrious versifiers, including a few poets, 
have recognized him as ' the lawgiver of the French Parnassus.' 
liis teachings, crossing our frontiers, have gone out to form 
schools in England and Clermany. His very enemies, by their 
passionate, intemperate, and, above all, clumsy attacks, have 
contributed, as much or more than his deserts, to engrave, to 
character his name in the memory ; and if there be any one 
who, not only for us who belong to his race, biit also for for- 
eigners, represents the French, or rather the classic spirit, with 
its (lualilies, but likewise with the defects which are the price or 
the obverse of these (jualities, it is neither Molitre, nor La 
Fontaine, nor Racine ; it is he, it is Boileau, it is the author of 
the Satires and the Art of Poetry. ... If there has been, from 
the Renaissance to the French Revolution, a classical ideal 
common to all Kurope, to him belongs the honor of having con- 
ceived, defined, and fixed it more clearly than any one else, l^ 

Itoilcau understood only what he loved ; he loved only what 
he thought himself capable of realizing at need in his own 
poetry ; and thus it happened that, being destitute of sensibility, 
imagination, and a strong constitution, he at first assigned too 
inconsiderable a part in his doctrine to the picturesque, to the 
senses, and to emotion. 

If in truth it is by virtue of thought that we are men, as we 
must fain ngree with him that it is, still we are by no means 
pure intelligences, but are linked to a body ; and our ' animal- 
ily'-- which can only be distinguished by an effort of abstrac- 
tion - — h not seiKirate from our ' humanity.' The representation 
of the inferior |Kirts of human nature, the portrayal even of 
Ihc tumult, the disorder, or the delirium of the senses, is only 
to Ik' forbidden to art in so far as there is mingled with it, as in 
sonic of our contemporary ' naturalists,' an evident intention 

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to simplify art by mutilating nature, — yutilating it in a way 
different from that of Boileau, but none the less arbitrary for 
being opposite, and, one may add, much more dangerous. 
Snce the instincts, the appetites, those remote and obscure 
impulses whose effects we can indeed arrest, but whose existence 
within us does not depend upon ourselves, — since these have 
their piart to play in life, they must have their place in art, and 
we have no right to affect ignorance of them, since we have no 
power to prevent their existence. This is what Boileau ignored. 
And undoubtedly, in a certain sense, the systematic elimination 
of what is inferior in us constitutes the nobility of his doctrine, 
constitutes its morality, but at the same time constitutes its 

The lack of sensibility constitutes its tediousness. Not that 
sensibility is to be our chief or only guide. Variable as it is, 
both from individual to individual, and in the same person at 
different times, capricious, unequal, queen of error and injustice, 
if there is a faculty which we are bound to distrust, it is aU that 
is enveloped in vagueness under the convenient but equivocal 
term of sensibility. The Rousseaus and Diderots of the next 
century undertook to furnish the proof of this. Nevertheless, 
since it is the principle or source of emotion, we cannot prevent 
sensibility from being likewise the cause of some of the keenest 
pleasures which we demand of art, as it is the soul of some of 
those very masterpieces upon which Boileau has lavished his 
praise, but regarding which we are inclined to ask — not without 
apprehension for him — whether he felt their full value. . . . 

Boileau did not understand women, and because they are 
wanting both to his theory and his performance, these in turn 
lack everything which women introduce into art when they en- 
gage in it, that is, no less than one half of human nature. If 
I did not fear to sink into affectation, I should say that sensi- 
bility, which is the feminine element of the soul, must, in unit- 
ing with an art which is merely reasoned and rational, have a 

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tendency to mitigat^ its excessive virility, and the t 
hardness resulting from such excessive virility. , . . 

Another error lay in his ignoring the power of the imagina- 
tion. Here again, Boileau undoubtedly knew by memorable 
examples that nothing is more dangerous for the poet than to 
write, as some one has said, with his imagination only, and to 
allow himself to be carried away by all the ardor of this decep- 
tive power, . . . And we, who are contemporary with the Fall 
of an Angel and the Legend of the .Ages, with Lamartine and 
Victor Hugo, know this still better. But for having turned up- 
side down the truth of things, and for failing to recognize that, 
in spite of all its excesses, the imagination, that is to say the 
faculty of transcending nature, of even seeing in it what is not 
there, provided only that he make us see it, that imagi- 
nation remains the supreme faculty of the poet, his original 
aptitude, one whose place can be supplied by no other, without 
which one may indeed be artist, writer, orator, but never poet — 
for this it is that we are bound to upbraid him. The reason is 
that he himself was not a poet, . . . 

Originality, in Boileau's sense of the word, never existed save 
as originality of expression or of form ; and in truth it is some- 
thing, if one must think like all the rest of the world, at least to 
speak or write like oneself. But this alone will not suffice. 
Taken literally, and followed by artists less upright than him- 
self, the theory of Boileau could not fail to result in the glorifi- 
cation of the commonplace under the name of the ' universal,* or 
in the apotheosis of common sense under the name of 'good 
sense.' But the question is to know what is common sense, 
and whether it were not oftentimes better to call it common 
error or common lunacy. . , , 

If we look for the secret of Boileau's enduring authority, we 
shall find it nowhere else than in this concurrence, this entire 
agreement, this almost perfect coincidence of his qualities or 
his defects with the customary defects and the average quali- 



ties of the French character, bourgeois and classic. The very 
qualities which we most prize to-day — good sense and perspi- 
cuity, logic and naturalness, wit and reason — are those that he 
possessed ; and as for his faults, we still hold by them. What 
Frenchman is there, for example, whom the vast imagination 
of a Hugo does not astound or scandalize much more than it 
excites his admiration ? And how many are there of us who — 
I do not say understand, but who appreciate, who enjoy, who 
love English ' humor ' or German ' gemlith,' . , . Contem- 
porary with Louis XIV, this 

Fils, fr^re, oncle, cousin, beau-fr^re de gieffiers, 

imitating the prince whose policy it was to open to the third 
estate the way to great civil employments, has substituted for a 
hundred and fifty years his bourgeois ideal for the wholly 
aristocratic ideal of the poets who preceded him, , , . What- 
ever we may say, this ideal, French as it is, must have been 
somewhat human as well, since for two centuries foreigners have 
been seeking to bend their genius to its yoke. 

[BRUNEniRE, L'EvoSution des Genres, i. 14-18.] 

If we look more closely at the matter, we shall discover that 
it is not two or three periods, vaguely distinguished from one 
another by chronology, that we have to study in the history, 
however cursory, of criticism, but that there are at least seven 
or eight, characterized by very precise traits. . . . 

I. In the first period — which may be made to extend from 
1550 to about 1605, and which is terminated by the names 
and work of Du Bellay at one extreme, and of Malherbe at the 
Other — criticism, still uncertain of its object and its methods, 
and confronted with ancient masterpieces which had been 
known, it is true, for a long while, but which are now under- 
stood for the first time, endeavors to recognize, to analyze, to 

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define, to catalogue the means, the reasons, and the causes of 
the impression which these works produce. 

2. These reasons and these causes being once recognized, 
criticism endeavors to transform them into rules of art. Since 
analysis discovers that the Terentian comedy, for example, or 
the Virgilian epic, please because and by means of certain 
merits, well and duly labeled, the attempt is made to find 
means, recipes, or processes for reproducing these merits, and 
thus to introduce beauties into works along with rules. This 
second period in the history of French criticism lasted from 
r6io to about 1660, or — if you prefer titles and names — 
from the publication of Chapelain's Preface to the Adone and 
the firat Letters of Balzac to the appearance of the first Satires 
of Boileau. 

3. For Boileau takes a step in advance ; and these rules 
whose sole pretension had hitherto been that they had been 
observed by the ancients, these rules it is the real originality of 
the ' lawgiver of Parnassus ' to have sought to establish at once 
in nature and reason. Boiieau endeavors to show that if the 
rules agree with the practice of Homer and Pindar, still more 
do they with the truth of nature as observation reveals it to 
us, and with the authority of reason, such as all men agree in 
recognizing by that name. This is a third period, and it ex- 
tends from 1660 to 1680 or 1690, from the triumphal entry of 
Boileau on the stage to the first attacks directed against his 
doctrines by the champions of the Moderns. 

4. With the Dispute between the Ancients and the Modems, 
from 1680 to about 1730, and from Perrault to Voltaire, we 
have a new period as interesting as any, and yet but imperfectly 
known. A few wits — of whom it must unfortunately be said 
that they seem in general to have been rather eccentric than 
courageous — declare war on the ancients, in other words 

- on tradition, and, in the name of a confused idea of prog- 
ress, demand for the author the right to belong to his own 

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age, which is quite right, and to belong to no other, which is 
much more contestable. They only half way fail, but then 
they only half way succeed. The reasons for this partial suc- 
cess are various, as we shall see ; at present we may say that 
the principal ones are : (i) their personal inability to equal 
those ancients whom they attack, to overcome by their Eclogues 
those of Theocritus, and by St. Paulinus the Odyssey; (?) the 
perplexity into which Boiieaii had thrown them from the out- 
set, by postulating the imitation of nature as the foundation and 
measure of the rules in his Art of Poetry ; (3) and finally, the 
error which they perpetrate concerning the nature and scope 
of the idea of progress. 

5. This decides Voltaire, the chief literary authority of the 
eighteenth century, to take his stand — though after some hesi- 
tation — on the side of Boileau. If certain independents, like 
Diderot, for example, strive to resist, without very well know- 
ing why, their protestations remain ineffectual. It is necessary 
to wait not only until Rousseau shall appear, but until a new 
generation shall perceive the consequences of his views. 
Meanwhile, it is Voltaire who is followed ; it is from Voltaire 
that the Marmonteis and laharpes derive ; in a word, it is the 
principles and ideas of Boileau — often contracted, but some- 
times expanded by Voltaire — which continue to rule in criti- 
cism, and to occupy the fifth period, that which we will accord- 
ingly extend from 1730 to 1780 or 1790. 

6. Here begins the history of modern criticism, and with it 
a new period. I will note its chief divisions by saying : 

A. That with Madame de Stael and Chateaubriand, at the 
beginning of the century, a knowledge, still quite superficial, 
of foreign literatures, and a knowledge hardly more exact of an 
older past, oblige our authors, by giving them the idea of new 
beauties, which are to be found neither in our national classics 
nor in the ancients, to verify for the first time the validity and 
the substance of their niles. 



B. That with Villemain — from wbose luune, in this cod- 
i)iie»t, those of Guizot and Cousin can hai&y be separated — 
there is added to the change of taste caused by the knowledge 
of foreign Uteratures and of hblory a change no less profound 
wrought by a wider, exacter, and, one may say, totally new 
knowledge of the relations between Uterary productions and 
the epochs, institutions, form and structure of the sodety whose 
expreHion they are. 

C. That with Sainte-Beuve the foundation is widened, the 
point of view shifted, and the methods of criticism transformed 
by psychology, physiology, and the consideration of how each 
work is related not only to its epoch, but to its author, his 
temperament and his education. 

1). Finally, that with Taine criticism aspires to become a 
science, even if it does not succeed ; and that, in any event, it 
seeks to supplement its means of information by the means — 
if I may use the term — by the methods and processes, of 
natural history. 


\_Du/iotiary of National Biography^ 

Howcii, Francis {1776-1844), translator, fourth son of the 
Rev. Thomas Howes of Momingthorpe, Norfolk, by Susan, 
(InUKllter of Fmncis Linge of Spinworth in the same county, 
was born in 1776, and was educated at the Norwich grammar 
Hch'wI. He entered Trinity College, Cambridge, in 1794, 
Rraduatcd H.A. in 1798 as eleventh wrangler, and pro- 
ceeded M.A. in 1804. In 1799 he obtained the members' 
pri«. His chief college friend was John (afterwards Sir John) 
Williams, the judge, who subsequently allowed him 100/, a 
year. He held various curacies, and in 1815 became a minor 


Illustrative comments. iv 

n of Norwich Cathedral, afterwards holding the rectories 
ssively of Alderford (from i8a6) and of Framingham 
Pigot (from 1829). He died at Norwich in 1844, and was 
buried in the west cloister of the cathedral. He married early 
Susan Smithson, and left issue ; one of his sisters, Margaret, 
married Edward Hawkins, and was the mother of Edward 
Hawkins, provost of Oriel. 

Howes published the following translations into English 
verse: t. Miscellaneous Poetical Translations, London, 1806, 
8vo, 2. The Satires of Persius," with Notes, London, i8og, 
8vo. 3. The Epodes and Secular Ode of Horace, Norwich, 
i84r, 8vo, privately printed. 4, The First Book of Horace's 
Satires, privately printed, Norwich, 1842, 8vo. After his 
death his son, C. Howes, published a collection of his transla- 
tions, London, 1S45, 8vo. The merit of his translations was 
recognized by Conington in the preface to his version of the 
satires and epistles of Horace, Howes composed epitaphs for 
various monuments in Norwich Cathedral. 

[Johnson, Life of Pitt.'] 

Christopher Pitt, of whom whatever I shall relate, more than 
has been already published, I owe to the kind communication of 
Dr. Warton, was bom in 1699 at Blandford, the son of a physi- 
cian much esteemed. He was, in 1714, received as a scholar into 
Winchester College, where he was distinguished by exercises of 
uncommon elegance, and, at his removal to New College 
in 1719, presented to the electors, as the product of his 
private and voluntary studies, -a complete version of Lucan's 
poem, which he did not then know to have been trans- 
lated by Rowe. This is an instance of early dihgence which 
well deserves to be recorded. The suppression of such a 
work, recommended by such uncommon circumstances, is to 
be regretted. It is indeed culpable to load libraries with 

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superfluous books, but incitements to early excellence are 
never superfluous, and from this example the danger is not 
great of many imitations. 

When he had resided at his College three years, he was pre- 
sented to the rectory of Pimpern in Dorsetshire (1722), by 
his relation, Mr. Pitt, of Stralfeildsea in Hampshire ; and, re- 
signing his fellowship, continued at Oxford two years longer, 
till he became Master of Arts (1724). He probably about 
this time translated Vida's Art of Poetry, which Tristram's 
splendid edition had then made popular. In this translation 
he distinguished himself, both by its general elegance and by 
the skilhil adaptation of his numbers to the images expressed, a 
beauty which Vida has with great ardor enforced and exempli- 
fied. He then retired to his living, a place very pleasing by its 
situation, and therefore likely to excite the imagination of a 
poet, where he passed the rest of his life, reverenced for his 
virtue, and beloved for the softness of his temper and the easi- 
ness of his manners. Before strangers he had something of the 
scholar's timidity or distrust, but when he became familiar he 
was in a very high degree cheerful and entertaining. His gen- 
eral benevolence procured general respect ; and he passeil a 
life placid and honorable, neither too great for the kindness of 
the low, nor too low for the notice of the great. 

At what time he composed his miscellany, published in 1727, 
it is not easy nor necessary to know ; those which have dales 
appear to have been very early productions, and I have not ob- 
served that any rise above mediocrity. 

The success of his Vida animated him to a higher undertak- 
ing, and in his thirtieth year he published a version of the 
first book of the .^neid. This being, I suppose, commended by 
his friends, he some time afterwards added three or four more, 
with an advertisement in which he represents himself as trans- 
lating with great indifference, and with a progress of which him- 
self was hardly conscious. This can hardly be true, and, if true, 

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is nothing to the reader. At last, without any further contention 
with his modesty, or any awe of the name of Dryden, he gave us 
a complete English ^Cneid, which I am sorry not to see joined in 
the late publication with his other poems. It would have been 
pleasing to have an opportunity of comparing the two best 
translations that perhaps were ever produced by one nation 
of the same author. 

Pitt, engaging as a rival with Dryden, naturally observed his 
failures, and avoided them ; and, as he wrote after Pope's 
Iliad, he had an example of an exact, equable, and splendid 
versification. With these advantages, seconded by great dili- 
gence, he might successfully labor particular passages, and 
escape many errors. If the two versions are compared, per- 
haps the result would be that Dryden leads the reader forward 
by his general vigor and sprightliness, and Pitt often stops him 
to contemplate the excellence of a single couplet ; that Dry- 
den's faults are forgotten in the hurry of delight, and that Pitt's 
beauties are neglected in the lai^uor of a cold and listless 
perusal ; that Pitt pleases the critic, and Dryden the people ; 
that Pitt is quoted, and Dryden read. He did not long enjoy 
the reputation which this great work deservedly conferred ; for 
he left the world in 1748, and lies buried under a stone at 
Blandford, on which is this inscription : 

In Memory o( 

Chr. Pitt, clerk, M.A. 

Very eminent 

for his talents in poetry; 

and yet more 

for the universal candor of 

his mind, and the primitive 

simplicity of his manners. 

He lived innocent, 

and died beloved, 

Apr, 13, 1748, 

aged 4S. 

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[Scott, Edition of Dryiien, 15. 229.] 

This piece [the translation from Boileau] was inserted 
among Dryden's Works, upon authority of the following adver- 
tisement by his publisher Jacob Tonson. 

" This translation of Monsieur Boileau's Art of Poetry was 
made in the year 1680, by Sir William Soame of Suffolk, Bar- 
onet ; who, being very intimately acquainted with Mr. Dryden, 
desired his revisal of il. I saw the manuscript lie in Mr. 
Dryden's hands for above six months, who made very con- 
siderable alterations in it, particularly the beginning of the 
Fourth Canto ; and it being his opinion that it would be better 
to apply the poem to English writers than keep to the French 
names, as it was first translated, Sir William desired he would 
take the pains to make that alteration ; and accordingly that 
was entirely done by Mr. Dryden. 

"The poem was first published in the year 1683. Sir William 
was after sent ambassador to Constantinople, in the reign of 
King James, but died in the voyage. — J. T," 

To give weight to Tonson's authority, it may be added that 
great part of the poem bears marks of Dryden's polishing hand, 
and that some entire passages show at once his taste in criti- 
cism, principles, and prejudices. 

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SUPPOSE some painter, for the whim, should trace 
A horse's neck with human head and fece. 
And limbs from various animals expressed 
In plumage of as various hues invest, 
So that the same fantastic piece may show 
A fair maid upwards, a foul fish below, — 
Were you admitted to the motley sight, 
Methinks you'd laugh, my friends, and well you might. 
Yet not less strange, my Pisos, to the ear 
Of sober sense that poem must appear. 
Which deals in shapes extravagant and vain, 
Wild as the phantoms of a feverish brain ; 
Where, no two members to one whole referred. 
All is grotesque, incongruous, and absurd. 
' Painters (you'll say) and bards, the worid agrees, 

HUM AND opiti cervicem pictor equinani 
Jungere si velit, et varlu inducere plilinu 
Undique collatis membris, ut turpitei atrum 
Desinat in piscem mutier formoEa supcrne, 
Spectatum admissi risum teneatiB, amici? 
Credite, Pisones, tsti tabubc fore librum 
PeramiUm, cujus velut sgci Eomnia vans: 
Fingenluc species, ut nee pes nee caput uni 
Reddaiur fomuB. ' Pictoribus alquc poelit 

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Are privileged to dare what flights they please.' 

We own that much is due for hcense' sake. 

And give it freely as we freely take ; 

But let them stop where nature stops at least, 

Nor couple tame with savage, bird with beast. 

Poems of high attempt and promise vast 

Oft dwindle to a dreary void at last. 

With here and there a purple remnant found 

Tagged on to throw a tawdry glare around. 

Diana's shrine embowered in tufted shades, 

With streamlets trickling through the verdant glades, 

The stately Rhine, the bow that spans the sky. 

By turns, like tinsel trappings, catch the eye. 

Not that such themes, well-timed, are void of grace j 

They are not bad ; but they are out of place. 

Say 'tis your knack to draw a cypress-tree — 

What then? you're hired to paint a storm at sea 

For some wrecked sailor. If the wheel begin 

A vase, why starts me up a nipperkin ? 

In short, to mark this maxim never cease — 

Let all you write be one and of a piece. 

Quidlibet audendi semper fuit xqua potestas.' 
Scimus et hanc veniam pclimusque damusque vicissim, 
Sed non ut placidia coeani immitia, non ut 
Serpcntcs avibus geminentur, tigribus agni. 
Inceplis gravibua pUrumque et magim professis 
Fuipureus, late qui splendeat, unus et alter 
Adsuitut pannus, cum lucias et ata Dianx 
Et properanlis aqux per amcenos ambitus agios 
Aut fiumen Rhenum aut plnviug deacribitur arcus. 
Sed nunc non erat his locus. Et fottasse cupiessum 
Scis simulare; quid hoc, si fractis enatat exspes 
Navibus sere dato qui pingilur? Amphora ccepit 
Inslitui; cunente toU cur urceua exit? 
Dcnique sit quod vis simplex dumtaxal et unum. 



Dear sire, and offspring worthy of your sire ! 
We bards are dupes to what ourselves admire. 
Would I be brief, I grow confused and coarse ; 
• Who aims at smoothness, fails in fire and force ; 
In him who soars aloft, bombast is found ; 
Who fears to face the tempest, crawls aground. 
Who courts variety, and fain would ring 
A thousand changes on the selfsame string. 
Will paint, as 'twere in fancy's wildest mood. 
Boars in the wave and dolphins in the wood. 
Thus even error, shunned without address. 
Breeds error different in its kind, not less. 

The meanest hand at sculpture shall not fail 
To hit the waving hair or mold a nail. 
Yet mars the tout- ensemble, since his soul 
Lacks energy to grasp a perfect whole. 
Genius thus circumscribed, should I aspire 
To works of taste, I would no more desire. 
Than shock with hideous nose each passer-by. 
Praised for my jetty hair and sloe-black eye. 

First, ye that write, mark well your proper field ; 

Maxima pars vatiun, patci et juvenes patre digni, 
Decipimur specie recti. Brevis esse laboro, 
Obscuius fio; sectantem levis nervi 
Deiiciunt animique; profesaias gjrandia tnrgel; 
Serpil humi tutus nitnium timidosque procellx. 
Qui vaiiare cupit rem prodigialiter unom, 
Delphinum silvis appingit, flaclibus aprum. 
In vitium ducit culpEe fuga, si caret arte. 

^milium circa ludum faber imus et ungues 
Exprimet et moUes imitabitur xre capillos, 
Inrelix operis summa, quia ponere totum 
Nesciet. Hunc ego me, si quid componere curem, 
Non magis esse velim, quam naso vivere pcavo, 
Spectandum nigtis ocutis nigroque capillo. 

Sumite materiam vestris, qui scrit>itis, ie<|uai& 

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HORACE. [39 

Let each select some theme which he can wield ; 
And, ere he tax his shoulders, weigh with care 
What freight they can and what they cannot bear. 
His pen shall words a ready host attend. 
And method light him to his journey's end. 

■ Of method this I deem the pride and grace — 
Whate'er is said, to say it in due place, 
Much to reserve till apt occasion call. 
Take this, leave that, and fitly time it all 

In choice of diction would you be admired, 
Nice care and shrewd adroitness is required. 
Sometimes a dextrous phrase shall cheat the view. 
And lend to well-known words the air of new. 
But if need be abstruser thoughts to dress, 
And in new terras new notions to express, 
We'll grant you now and then to frame a word 
Which the high-girt Cethegi never heard; 
Nor shall such freedoms, if discreetly used 
And taken with reserve, be e'er refused. 
But those least shock the ear which trace their course. 
With slight deflexion, from a Grecian source. 

Viribus, et versate diu quid ferte recusent. 

Quid vateant humeri; cui lecta potenter erit les, 40 

Nee facundia deseiet hone nee lucidus ordo. 

Ordini$ baec virtus erit et venus. aut ego Tailor, 
lit jam Dune dicat jam nunc debentia dici, 
Pleraque diRerat et prsesens in tempus omiltat; 
Hoc amet, hoc spernat promissi carminis auctor. 15 

In verbis etiam tenuis cautusque serendis 
Dixeris egregie, aotum si callida verbum 
Reddiderit juBctuia novum. Si forte necease est 
Indiciis monstrare recentibus abdita lerum, 
Fmgere cinctutts noD exaudila Cetbegis M 

Continget, dabiturque lieentia sumpta pudenter; 
Et nova fictaque nuper babebunt verba fidem, ^ 
Caeca fonte cadent, parce detotta, Quid autem 

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For say, shall Rome from present bards withhold 

A grace so largely lavished on the old ? 

Shall Virgil or shall Varius be forbid 

To do what Plautus or Caecilius did ? 

If, when a Cato spake or Ennius sung, 

They gifted with fresh stores their native tongue. 

Must I, a modem, with the power, forbear 

To swell the public stock with niy poor share? 

The poet's right none did — none dare — deny. 

To. put forth words impressed with recent die. 

As Autumn sweeps the grove's green pride away, 
The new leaves budding as the old decay. 
So words which flaunt their time in vernal bloom 
Must fall, and fresh ones flourish in their room. 
Alas, proud man ! thyself and all that's thine 
Soon shed their transient glories and decline. 
The labored pier that breaks the baffled tide 
And opes a bay where anchored navies ride ; — 
The moor and watery waste reclaimed, where now 
The slow ox drags the fertilizing plough ; — 
The river taught to spare the ripening grain 
And by a safer route to join the main ; — 

Qecilio Pliutoque (labit Romanus ademptum .'-^ 
Vergilio Varioque? Ego cut acquirere paue4 
Si possum invideor, cum lingua Catonis et Enni 
^rmonem paCrium ditavecit et nova re rum 
Nomina proluleril? Licuit semperque licebit 
Signalum praesente nola producers nomen. 
Ut silvae foliis pronos mutantur in annos, 
Pcima cadunt. ita veiborum vetus interil Stas, 
Et juvenum ritu florenC modo nala vigenlque. 
Debemur morii nos noslraque, sive recepCus 
Tetta Neptunua classes Aquilonilius arcet, 
Regis opus, sleriltsve diu palus aptaque remis 
Vicinas ucbes alit el grave Sentil aratruni, 
Sou curaum mutavit iniquum frugibus amnis. 

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Such are thy noblest works, and such decay ; 
And shall the shadowy tribes of language stay? 
Shall speech alone resist Time's envious tooth, 
And live and flourish in perennial youth? 
Full many a word, now lost, again shall rise. 
And many a word shall droop which now we prize. 
As shifting fashion stamps the doom of each, 
Sole umpire, arbitress, and guide of speech. 

What numbers suit the daring bard who sings 
Embattled hosts and kings encountering kings, 
Homer has shown. — In couplets short and long 
First pensive sorrow poured her plaintive song ; 
In after-times, although the wish were gained 
And tears gave place to smiles, the verse remained ; 
But elegy's soft lay who first struck out. 
Critics still argue and the court's in doubt. — 
Rage gave Archilochus a loftier tone. 
And armed him with iambics all his own. 
These did the sock and these the buskined muse, 
As suited to discourse alternate, choose, — 
e for life's bustling action fit 

Doctus iter melius, morlalia facta peribunl, 
Nedum sermonum steC honos et gratia viva.x. 
Multa renascentur, qase jam cecideie, cadentque 
Quie nunc sunt in honote vocabula, si volet usus, 
Quem penes arbitrium est el jus et norma loquer 

Res gestx cegumque ducumque et tristia bella 
Quo scribi possent numero monstiavit Homerus. 
Versibus iniipariCer junctis querimonia piimum, 
Post etiam inclusa est voti scntentii compos. 
Quis tamen exiguos elegos emisetit auctor, 
Giammalici certant et adhuc sub judicc lis est. 
Archilocbum proptio rabies armavit iambo; 
Huiic socci cepere pedem grandesque cothurni, 
Alternis aptum sermonibus, et populaces 

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And towering o'er the thunder of the pit. — 

To the bold lyre the favoring Muse has given 

To chant the powers and progeny of Heaven, 

The champiqn crowned, the conquering courser's line, 

Love's lender cares, and joys of generous wine. 

To give each piece its marked specific hue, 
Hit the nice shades and keep the coloring true. 
If niggard nature feels a task too bard. 
Why am I honored with the name of bard ? 
Why blush to learn, if ignorant, and prefer, 
Rather than mend my error, still to err? 
The comic scene revolts at being told 
In verse of tragic texture strong and bold ; 
Not less Thyestes' horrid feast disdains 
The sock's light chit-chat and colloquial strains. 
Let but each style enjoy its proper place. 
Each shall appear with dignity and grace. 
Yet Comedy at times her voice can raise. 
And wrathful Chreraes rails in swelling phrase. 
The tragic hero too, subdued by woes, 
Stoops from his height to wail in homely prose : 

Vincentem strepitus et natum rebus agendis. 
Musa dedit iidibus divns puecosque deorum 
Et pugilem victorem et equum ceititnioe piimum 
Et juvenum cutas et libera vina referie. 

Descriptas servare vices opecumque colures 
Cur ego si nequeo ignoroque poeta solulor? 
Cur nesciie pudena prave quam discere uialo? 
Versibus exponi tragicis res coinica dod volt. 
Indignatur item privatis ac ptope socco 
Dignis carminibu9 nanari cena Thyestse. 
Singula quseque locum (eneant soitita decenten. 
Interdum tamen et vocem comcedia tollit, 
Iratusque Chremes tumido delitigat oie; 
Et tragicus plerumque dolet sermone pedestil 

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Peleus and Telephus, forlorn and poor, 
Spout their loud fustian and big words no more. 
Would they one throb of sympathy impart, 
And touch with kindred pangs the hearer's heart. 

'Tis not enough that poetry combine 
All fancy's charms in every sounding line ; 
Impassioned let her be, and melt at will 
The soul to pity, or with horror thrill'. 
From face to face as smiles contagious creep, 
So weeps the according eye with those that weep ; 
Who claims my tears, must first display his own. 
Then shall I catch his pangs and share his moan. 
But if ye rant as if no grief were nigh, 
If in your speech your sufferings ye belie, 
Ve exiled heroes ! maugre all your woes, 
'Tis ten to one I either laugh or doze. 
Sad words befit the brow with grief o'erhung; 
Anger, that fires the eyeball, bids the tongue 
Breathe proud defiance ; sportive jest and jeer 
Become the gay ; grave maxims the severe. 
For nature, working in our nice machine, 
First molds the passions to life's fitful scene, 

Telephus et Felcus, cum pauper ct exsul utecque 
Proicit ampullas et sesquipcdalia verba. 
Si cnrat cor spectanlis letigiase querela. 

Non satis est pulchra esse poemata; dulcia sunto, 
Et quocumque volent animutn auditoris aguntu. 
Ut ridentibus arrident, ita flentibus adsutit 
Hiunani vollua: si via me fiere, dolendum est 
Primum ipsi tibi; tunc tua me infortnnia Iredent, 
Telephe vel Peleu; male si mandata loqueris, 
Aut dormitabo aul ridebo. Tristia mxstum 
Voltum verba decent, iratum plena minarum, 
Ludentem lasciva, sevcrum seria diclu. 
Kounat enim natura prius nos intus ad omnem 

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Gladdeas, or goads to wrath, or, fraught with care. 

Drags down to earth and wings us with despair ; 

AnoD a herald in Ae tongue she finds 

Prompt to proclaim each movement of our naiads. 

But it the actor play oot to the life. 

If with his words his fortunes seem at strife. 

Him knights and conuiKHts, hoise and foot, shail scqK, 

And tittering thoosands hoot the blunderer off. 

Each speaker let his speech characterize : 
For sore a btoad and glaring difieience lies. 
Whether a god or hero tnoont the stage ; 
The bdsk young spark ot man mature in age ; 
The dame of rank or nurse of prattling vein ; 
The wandering seaman or the peaceful swain ; 
One that Assyria or that Colchis fed ; 
He that at Aigos or at Thebes was bred. 

In panting characters, or follow fame, 
Or keep your fancy-piece throughout the same. 
If haply to the stage you summon back 
Great Peleus' son, adhere to Homer's track : 
Proud, stem, relentless, brave, the hero draw, 
His title conquest, and the sword his law. 
PortunBrum habilum; juvat aut impellit ail Iram, 
Aut ad humum meeiore giavi deducit el uigilj 
Post effert animi motiu inteiprete lingua- 
Si dicenCis eiunt foituniB abiona dicta, 
Romani tollent equitei peditetque cachinnum. 

Interetil multum diviune loqualur an heroi, 
Matunune tenex an adbuc florente juvenla 
Fervidni, et matrona poteni an leduU Dutrix, 
MeicMome vagui cultoroe viteotji agelli, 
C^choi an AHynna, Thebis nutritu* an Ai^t. 

Ant famani lequere aut wbi cunvenieiitia tinge. 
ScHptOi honoratiuD (j forte r«|>ODis Acbilkoi, 
Impiger, iracaadui, ineKixabilie, acer 
Jura iKgct >itH nata, oibil ouo air<^et armii. 

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Fierce be Medea and untamed by ill ; 
Ixion treacherous and ungrateful still ; 
Ino a mourner o'er her slaughtered child ; 
lo an outcast ; and Orestes wild. 
But if you dare to launch upon the st^C 
Originals that ne'er graced poet's page, 
Let them one tenor to the last pursue, 
Consist throughout and to themselves be true. 
With truth's discriminating traits to fill 
A general outline, asks no vulgar skill ; 
And safer shall the bard his pen employ. 
With yore, to dramatize the Tale of Troy, 
Than, venturing trackless regions to explore, 
Delineate characters untouched before. 
Yet here and there the public ground shall yield 
Of private property an ample field. 
If neither in the trite routine you plod. 
There only treading where the rest have trod, 
' Nor word for word with servile care translate, 
Nor, closely copying, leap into a strait 
Whence fear of shame and your own rule, to boot 
Forbid you to release your tangled foot. 

Sit Medea, ferox invictiqne, Hebilis Ino, 

PerRdus Ixion, lo vaga, tcistis Orestes, 

Si quill inexpertum scense commiuis et audes 

Personam foimare novam, servetur ad imum 

Qualis ab incepto processerit et »bi consteL 

Difficile est propcie communia dicere; tuque 

Reclius Iliacum carmen deducia in actus, 

Quam si profertes ignota indictstque primus. 

Publica maleries privati juris erit, si 

Non circa vilem patolumque moraberis orbem, 

Nee verbum verbo curabis reddere ddus 

Interpres, rec desiliea imitator in arlum, 

Unde pedem proferre pudor vetet aut operia lex. 

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Pn^ess Dot with the Cyclic b«rd to sing 
' Of Ilium's ^-£uiied war and hapkss king.' 
What are this boaster's proud preteosioos worth ? 
The moantain teems, and gives a titmoase birth ! 
Mark with what ample majesty the strain 
Of Aim begins who never vaunts in vain — 
' 9ng, Muse ! the man who, when Troy's bulwarks fell. 
Trod various realms and marked their manners well.' 
With him no transient blaze in smoke expires, 
But from the smoke borst forth abiding fires. 
From which, as fimcy works, new wonders rise 
To flash amazement on the ravished eyes, — 
Antiphates, Charybdis' howling wave. 
The dogs of Scylla, and the Cyclops' cave. 
Nor does he ran his subject out of breath 
In dry detail from Meleager's death 
To Dioraed's return ; nor yet begins 
The Trojan war from I^da and her twins ; 
But posting onwards, brooking no delay, 
Tp the mid-theme he boldly bursts his way. 
■ Much he anticipates as if 'twere known ; 

Nee sic incipies, ut scriptor cycHcug aUm: 
> Fortunam Priami cantabo et nobile bellum.' 
Quid dignum tanto feret hie promissor hiatu? 
Parturient monies, naacetur ridiculus mu8, 
Quanto rectius hie, qui nil molitui inepte: 
' Die mihi Musa virum, capte post tempora Troja: 
Qui mores hotninum muUorum vidit et urbes.' 
Non fumum ex fulgoie, sed ex fumo dare lucem 
CogilaC, ut speciosa dehinc miracula ptomat, 
Aniiphaten Scyllunque et cum Cyclope Chaiybdin; 
Nee reditum Diomedis ab interilu Meleagri, 
Nee gemino bellum Tiojanum orditur ab ovo. 
Semper ad eventum fettinat et in media* ret 
Non secus ac notas auditorem rapit, et qux 
De^erat tractata nitescere posse, lelinquit; 

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■ Much that he feeb would tire he lets alone ; 
And so adroitly mingles false with true, 
So with his fair illusions cheats the view, 
That all the parts — beginning, middle, end — 
In one harmonious compound sweetly blend. 

Hear now what I and all the town demands. 
If yon would have your audience clap their hands, 
In patience seated till the curtain draws 
And the last speaker bows and begs applause. 
Mark in each stage of life how nature veers. 
The temper varying with the varying years. 
What time the tongue has mastered every sound. 
And steadier footsteps leam to print the ground. 
Behold the schoolboy frolicsome and gay 
Scampering to join his comrades at their play. 
Vexed for a straw, but soothed as soon as vexed. 
In tears this moment and in smiles the next. 
The beardless youth, his freedom proud to gain. 
Loves horses, hounds, and Mars's sunny plain ; 
Ductile as wax to vice his yielding soul, 
Deaf to the warning voice of dull control, 
Profuse of purse, impatient of delay. 

Atque ita menlilur, sic recis falsa remiacet, 
Primo ne medium, medio ne discrepet imum. 

Tu, quid ego et popului mecum desideiet, a 
Si pliusoris egea aulaea manentis et usque 
Sessuri donee cantor 'Vos plaudite ' dicat, 
^tatis cujusque notandi sunt tibi mores, 
Mubilibnsque decor naluris dandus et annis. 
Reddne qui voces jam scil pucr et pede certc 
Signat humum, gestit paribus coUudeie, et Iran 
Colligit ac ponit temere, et mutatui in horas. 
Imberbus juvetlis, landem custode remoto, 
Gaudet equis canibusque et aprici giamine can 
Cereua in vitiuni flecti, monitoribus asper. 

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Taking no thought but for the present day. 
Of lofty spirit, of affections strong. 
Pleased with what's new, but pleased with nothing long. 
Shifting his views, see riper manhood crave 
Place, power, and patronage, — ambition's slave ; 
Wary betimes each oversight to shun. 
And slow to do what he may wish undone. 
A thousand ills declining age attend. 
Still brooding o'er its bags, still loath to spend. 
In counsel cold, and tardy to decide. 
In thrifty forecast placing all its pride ; 
Full of prospective bliss aud present pain, 
Suspicious and splenetic, fretful, vain ; 
' Loud in the praises of the good old times, 
And croaking stern rebuke on modem crimes. 
Thus, as life's seasons in succession flow, 
Our tempers change, our passions come and go. 
Beware then in youth's portrait to employ 
The tints of age, nor mingle man with boy ; 
To every period with precision give 
Its proper cast, and bid your picture live. 

Utiliuro tardus piovisor, prodigiu sex\s, 

Sublimis cupidusque eC amata relinquere peitiU. 16 

Convet«s stud lis £tas animusque vLiilis 

Commisisse cavet quod mox mutare Uboret. 

Multa senem circumveniunt incommoda, vel quod 

Quxrit et inventis miiei abstinel ac timet uti, IT 

Vel quod re» omnis limide gelideque miniairat. 

Dilator, spe longus, inecs, avidusque futuri, 

Difiicilis, querulus, laudator temporis acti 

Se puero, castigator censorque minorum. 

Multa ferunt anni venientes commoda secuio;. IT 

Multa recedentes adiniunt. Ne forte seniles 

Mandentut juveni partes pueroque viiilei, 

Semper in adjunctis sevoque morabimui aptts. 



All facts which in the fable liave a share 
Pass on the stage, — or are recorded there. 
Those which a tale shall through the ear impart 
With fainter characters impress the heart 
Than those which, subject to the eye's broad gaze, 
The pleased spectator to himself conveys. 
Yet drag not on the stage each horrid scene, 
Nor shock the sight with what should pass within. 
This let description's milder medium show. 
And leave to eloquence her tale of woe. 
Let not the cruel Colchian mother slay 
Her smiling in^ts in the face of day ; 
Nor Atreus crown the board with impious food. 
And feast a brother with congenial blood ; 
Nor Procne's form the rising plumage take ; 
Nor Cadmus sink into a slimy snake. 
Much that were only passing strange if heard, 
When seen, revolted sense declares absurd. 

To five acts lengthened be the piece, not more. 
That asks the long applause and loud encore ; 
Nor in the unraveling be a god displayed, 
Save where the knot disdains all humbler aid ; 

Aut ^tur res in scenis, ant acta refertur. 
Segnius itiitant animos demissa per aurem 
Quara qua sunt qculis subjecia fidelibus, et quae 
Ipse sibi ttadil spectator. Nod tamen intus 
Digna geii piomes in scenam, roulUque tolles 
Ek i>culis quie niox nanel facundia praesens. 
Ne pueroa coram populo Medea trucidet, 
Aut humana pal am coqnat exia nefatius Atreus, 
Aut in avem Procne vertalur, Cadmus in anguem. 
Quodcumque ostendis mihi sic, incredulus odL 

Neve minor neu sit quinto proiluctioT actu 
Pabula, qiue posci volt et spectala reponi. 
Nee deus intersit, nisi dignus vindicc noitus 

D,o, by Google 


Nor io distracting dialogue engage 

Kt once four speaieis on the crowded stage. 

The Chorus should an actor's part sustain, 
Join in the busy scene nor join in vain ; 
Nor chant between the acts what does not tend 
To aid the theme and with the action blend. 
A ready patron still on virtue's side. 
With friendly love her votaries let it guide, 
Greet those who fear to swerve from duty's path, 
And curb with bold rebuke revenge and wrath ; 
Let it the tribute of its praise afford 
To sober diet and the simple board ; 
Espouse fair justice, the support of states, 
Law's righteous sword, and peace with open gates ; 
Hold fast the secret trusted to its care ; 
And to the gods put up a fervent prayer 
That fickle Fortune may at their behest 
Turn from the oppressor to relieve the oppressed. 

The pipe in days of yore, not brazen-bound 
As now, nor rivaling the trumpet's sound. 
But of few stops and slender compass, still 
Served to support the Chorus, and to fill 
A narrow line of seats that with no crowd 
Incident; nee quarts loqui persona laboret. 

Actoria partes chorus officiumque virile 
Defendat, neu quid medios jntercinat actui 
Quod non proposito conducat et hsereat apte. 
Ille bonis faveatque el consilietur amice, 
Et regat iralos et amet peccare timcnIeB; 
Ille dapes laudet mens^E brevis, ille salubrem 
JusCitiam legesque el apertis otia poitis; 
Ille tegat commissa, deosque precetuc et oret 
Ut redeat misetis, abeat fortuna superbis. 

Tibia non, ut nunc, orichalco vincta, luba-que 
.iCmula, Bed tenub wmplexque foramine pauco 
Adspiiare et adesse choHs erat utilis, atque 

D,o, by Google 

HORACE. [a» 

Of countless hearers hitfaerto o'etflowed — 

Seats, where a people thin in numbers yet. 

Decent and chaste and plain and fhigal, met. 

But when by wai the reahn was wider grown. 

And walls of ampler circuit girt the town; 

When, on a day of revels, to begin 

The feast from noontide was no more a ^n, 

A larger hceuse and a scope less rude 

Both to the music and the verse accrued. 

For what should that mixed audience have of taste, 

Clown grouped with cit, and boors by nobles placed? 

Thus did the piper superadd erelong 

The charms of gesture to the powers of song, 

With pantomimic grace his sense expressed. 

And trailed along the boards the floating vest. 

Thus too, its tones increased, the lyre severe 

Poured richer warblings on the ravished ear; 

The muse in loftier numbers learned to soar. 

Imped her bold plume for fl^hts untried before. 

And, fraught with fire prophetic, bade each line 

Rival the raptures of the Delphian shrine. 

Nondum spiasa nimis complere sedilia flatu; 
Quo sane populus numerabilis, utpote parvus, 
Et frugi caaluaque verecundusque coibat. 
Poslquam ccepil agros extendete victor et urbet 
Latior amplecti murus vinoque diumo 
Placnri Geniua feslU impune diebus, 
AccestiC nume risque modisque licentia major. 
Indoctus quid enim saperet liberque laborum 
Rusticni urbano confusus, tutpis honesto? 
Sic piiicte motumque et luxuriem addidit STti 
Tibken traxitque vagus per pulpita vestem; 
Sic etiam fidibua voces ctevere severis, 
El tulit eloquiuTn insoUtuiD Tacundia piseceps, 
Uliliumque sagax rerum el divina fuluri 
Sortilegii non liiscrepuit sententia Delphis. 

D,o, by Google 


He that in tragic lay late strained his throat 
To win the paltry prize — a shaggy goat, 
Soon bared upon the stage a sylvan crew 
And brought the wanton satyrs forth to view ; 
The solemn tone not wholly laid aside, 
To humor and burlesque his hand applied ; 
And sought by grateful novelty of song 
To rivet to their seats a boozy throng 
From festive rites and revels just set free, 
Ripe for loose pranks and full of tipsy glee. 
Yet so to shift from grave to gay 'twere fit, 
So temper the light satyrs' saucy wit, 
That not each god, each hero, that of late 
Stalked forth in purple robes and royal slate. 
Anon should all his pomp of speech let down 
To the low slang and gabble of a clown. 
Or, steering heavenwards his flight too fast. 
Grasp empty clouds and soar into bombast. 
The Tragic Muse, with bashfulness severe. 
Disdaining the base gibe and trivial jeer. 
Will, like a matron whom the priest perchance 
Calls at some solemn festival to dance, 

Cannine qui tr>gicu vilcm certavit ob liircmn, 
Mox etiaiD agrestes Satytos nudavit, et asper 
Incolnim gravitate jocum tentavit, eo quod 
lUecebris eral el grata novitate morandus 
Spectator, functusque sacris et polus et exiex. 
Venun Ita tisores. ita commendare dicaces 
Conveuiet Satyros. ita verlere seria ludo, 
Ne quicunqae dens, quicanqne adbibebitut heros, 
Regali conspectus in auro nuper et ostio, 
Migret in obscuras huniili sernione tabemas, 
Aut. dum vital biunuin, nubes et inania captel. 
EfTulire leves indigna tragcedia vetsus, 
Ul festis mationa moveri jussa diebai. 


Amid the duttish sMyis still be seen 

Distioguisbed by her staid and sober mieiL 

Were I, my &ieiids, to write satyiic J^ys, 

Not wbolly to low terms and homely phrase 

Would I restrict my pen ; nor so refuse 

The richer coloring of the tragic mnse. 

As that no difference should be marked between 

What waggish Davus in the comic scene 

Or Pythias prates, when in her knavery bold 

She bubbles simple Simo of his gold, — 

And what Silenus, when he steps abroad 

The foster guardian of the nursling god. 

Some well-known legend should support my theme ; 

This with such art I'd trace, that each should deem 

He too could match the verse, — then task his brain, 

And toiling long confess his efforts vain. 

Such merit is to plan and structure due ! 

To vulgar themes such glory may accrue ! 

But let the fauns, sdll mindful what they are. 

Fetched from the woods, by my advice beware 

(As if at Rome they all their life had led. 

Bom in our streets and in our Forum bred) 

Inteterit SatyiU paulum pudibunda protecvis. 
Nun ego iaomata et duminantia Domina sulum 
Verbaque, l^»onet, Satyronun scriptut amibo; 
Nee lie eniUi tragico differre colori, 
Ul nihil intetBJt, Uavusne bquatur el audax 
Fytbial, emuncto lucrata Simone Uleudim, 
An cuUot famul usque dei Silenus alumni. 
Ex nota Hctum carmeD sequar, ut sibi quivis 
Sperct idem, sudet multum fiuslraque laboret 
Auim idem; tantum series juncturaque poUet, 
Tantum de medio sumptis accedit honoris. 
Kilvii (teducti caveant, me judice. Fauni, 
He velut iDuati tiiviis ac p<ene furenses 

D,o, by Google 


They tattle in a languid, love-sick style, 

Or bolt unseemly jests and ribald vile. 

For each that boasts birth, rank, and consequence, 

At such low trash is apt. to take offense. 

Nor all with patience hears or deigns to crown 

That with the nut-and-gray-peasc tribe goes down. 

Two syllables, first short, then long, combine 
To frame the light iambus ; whence the line. 
Though to the ear six several beats it bears. 
Was surnamed trimeter, and scanned by pairs. 
This measure, as its pristine form was cast. 
Flows uniformly on from first to last. 
But after no long time, to greet the ear 
With more majestic grace and weight severe. 
The foot, its birthright waived, generous and free, 
Took in joint partnership the grave spondee. 
One special privilege reserving still — 
That every even place itself should fill. 
' Not so (says one) march the bold trimeters 
Of Accius, Ennius ; there it scarce occurs.* 
Yet, maugre such high names, that author's page 

Aut nimium teneris juvenentiu versibus unquam, 
Aut iiiununda crepent ignominiosaqne dicla. 
OfTendnntur enim, quibus est equus et patet el res. 
Nee, si quid fricti ciceris probat et nucis emptor, 
i^uis accipiunt animis donantve corona. 

Syllaba longa brevi subjecla vocatur iambus, 
Pes citus; unde eliam trimetria accrescete jussit 
NomeD iambeis, cum senos redderet ictus 
Primus ad extremum similia sibi. Non ita pridem, 
TardioT ut paulo graviorque veniret ad aures, 
Spondeos stabilea in jura paterna recepit 
Commodus et patiens, non ut de sede secunda 
Cederet aut quarts socialiter. Hie et in Acci 
Nobilibua trimetcU apparet rarus, et Enni 
In ecenam missos cum magno pondete versus 

D,o, by Google 

Who thus with ponderous cadence loads the stage, 

Speaks either gross neglect and slovenly haste, 

Or ignorance of his art and want of taste. 

Not every reader, it is true, has skill 

To judge if verse be modulated ill ; 

And too indulgent Rome has fondly nursed 

This laxness in her poets from the first. 

But what of that ? If readers will be fools. 

Must I run riot and despise all rules, 

Safe in that ftiult, forsooth, vjh'^h, even if seen 

By all the world, long use perhaps shall screen? 

Poor boast, to say, ' I have escaped from blame, 

But after all to praise can urge no claim ! ' 

Your standard then be Greece ! Her models bright 

By day peruse, and reperuse by night ! 

Our forefathers, good-natured, easy folks. 

Extolled the numbers and enjoyed the jokes 

Of Plautus, prompt both these and those to hear 

With tolerant — not to say with tasteless — ear; 

At least if you and I with sense are blest 

To tell a clownish from a courtly jest, 

Or, by the finger's aid and ear's to boot, 

Aut operft ceUtis nimium cucaque catentis 
Aut ignorate premit artis crimine turpi. 
Non quivis videt immaclulatii poemata judex, 
Et data Romanis venja est indigna poetis. 
Idcjrcone vager scribanique licenler? an onrnes 
Visuros peccata putem mea, tutus et intra 
Spent veniae cautus^ Vitavi detiique culpam, 
Non laudem merui. Vo9 exemplatia Gneca 

Al vestri proavi Plautinos et numeros et 
Laudavere sales: nimium patknter utrumque, 
Ne dicam stulte, mirati, si modo ego et vos 
Scimus inurbanum lepido seponere dicto, 



Can take just measure of a verse and foot. 

Thespis, we're told, the tragic song struck out, 
And in rude wagons hawked his plays about ; 
His corps dramatic, every brow with lees 
Of wine besmeared, there sung and acted these. 
Next jEschylus brought on the traihng pall 
And visor, reared a stage on platform small, 
To strut in buskined pride his actors taught. 
And gave big utterance to the manly thouglit. , 
The Antique Comedy was next begun, 
Nor light applause her frolic freedom won ; 
But, into slanderous outrage waxing fast. 
Called for the curb of law ; that law was passed ; 
And thus, its right of wronging quickly o'er. 
Her Choras sank abashed, to rise no more. 

Naught have ottr venturous poets left untried, 
Nor is it in the wreath which crowns their pride 
The meanest plume, that many a Roman bard 
Spuming the Grecian track, has boldly dared 
To chant domestic themes — alike, 1 trow. 
Id bordered robe or plain, high life or low. 

Legitirauinqne Mmum digitis callemus el sure. 

Ignotum ttagicx genus invcnisse CameiLS 
Dicitur et plauitrii vexisse poemata Tbespis, 
QuEB onerent agerentque pcmncti fiecilius ora. 
Post hunc, persons palbeque repertut honesbc, 
jEschylus et modicis instravit pulpita tignis 
Et docuit magnunugue loqni nitJque cuthuino. 
Succeasit veCus his coiDnedia, non sine multa 
Laude; sed in vitium libertas excidit et vim 
Dignam lege regi: lex est Bccepta chornsque 
Tiupiter obticuit sublato juie nocendi. 

Nil intentatuin nostii liquere poetx, 
Nee minimum meruere decus, vesligia Grzeca 
Ausi deserete et celebrare domestica (acta. 
Vel qui pisEtextas vel qui docuere togatas. 

Dioiir^dhyGoogle . 

Nor would the name of Latium stand renowned 
On martial mote than on Parnassian ground. 
Were not our every bard so loth the while 
To brook the i>ause and labor of the file. 
Praise you no piece, my noble friends, but what 
Has been through many an hour and many a blot 
Corrected, ten times poised in judgment's scale, 
And smoothed like sculpture to the critic nail ! 

Because Democritus thinks fit to call 
Art nothing-worih, and genius all in all. 
And stemly bids each sober muse's sod 
Renounce the verdant heights of Helicon, 
There are in whom a wondrous whim prevails 
Neither to trim their beard nor pare their nails ; 
Where crowded baths invite, they come not nigh. 
But to lone caves and silent deserts fly. 
For oh ! he shines a bard confessed, be sure, 
Whose poll (which three Anticyras could not cure) 
To barber Licinus was ne'er consigned ! 
Fool that I am, who, though to verse inclined, 
Purge every spring the wit-inspiring bile ! 
How matchless, but for this, had been my style ! 

Nee virtute foreC claiisve potentiui armis 
Quam lingua Latium, si non oflenderet unum- 
Quemqiie poetarum lim^ labor et aiota. Vos, o 
Pompiliua sanguis, carmen reprehcndiCe, quoil noD 
Multa dies et multa litura coercuit atqoe 
Perfectum decies non castigavit ad unguem. 

Ingenium misera quia fortunatius arte 
Credit et excludit sanos Helicone poelas 
Democritus, bona pars non unguis ponere curat, 
Non barbam; secreta petit loca, balnea vitat. 
Nanciscetur enim pretium nomenque poctx. 
Si tribus Anticyris caput insanabile nunquam 
Tonsori Lidno commiseiil. O ego bevus, 
Qui purgoi: bilem sub verni temporis horam ! 

D,o, by Google 


No matter ; mine be like the whetstone's aid. 
Which, blunt itself lends sharpness to the blade. ■ 
While othen practise, precept I'll impart, 
And, tboa^ do artist, prove a frieDd to an. 
Whence all the baid's resources flow, I'll teach ; 
What his just ionctious, and bow hi they reach ; 
What kindles and what bns the sacred fire ; 
What course must train him, and what themes inspire ; 
What breeds the fool, and what the kai befriends ; 
And whither fitness, whither foilure tends. 

In the philosophy of man to excel 
Is the prime root and spring of writing well. 
Matter the page SocraHc best can show ; 
That once provided, words will freely flow. 
When lore has opened to the poet's view 
To country what, and what to friends is due ; — 
In what just portion man beneath the names 
Of parent, brother, host, affection claims ; — 
To what the senator, the judge, is bound, 
Or chief pavilioned high on tcoted ground ; — 
Doubt not but he each character shall scan 
, And shrewdly fit the manners to the man. 
Nod alius faceret ineliora poemata. Venun 
Nil tanti est. E^o fungac vice cotis, acutum 
Reddete qua fenuni valet, exsois ipsa secaodi; 
Munus et officiuin, nil scribens ipse, docebo, 
Unde parentiu opes, quid alat fannetque poetam. 
Quid deceat, quid non ; quo viitus, quo ferat error. 


Rem tibi Soctaticx potetunE ostendece chattae, 1 

Verbaque provisam rem non invita sequentut. 

Qui dididt, patrbe quid debeat et quid amicis. 

Quo sit amore pacens, quo fratet anumdus el hospes. 

Quod sit conscript!, quod judicis officimn, qiue 

Partes in bellnm missi ducis, illc profecto I 

RedJeie person* soil convenientia cuique. 

D,o, by Google 

HORACE. [MT-331 

Besides, to copy nature to the life. 

Go, mark the world, explore its busy strife ; 

To living scenes for truth's expression look ; 

There dip your pen, and make mankind your book. 

Oft has the play wherein these virtues dwell, 

Set off with sentiment and mannered well, 

Though else uncouth and rude in every part, 

Devoid of strength, wit, elegance, or art, 

More charmed an audience, more their hearts surprised, 

Than faithless grace and nonsense harmonized. 

Genius to Greece, to Greece the pride of phrase 
Heaven gave, of nothing covetous but praise. 
Not so our youth, who, cramped by hopeful drilling, 
Learn into fifty parts to split one shilling. 
Let young Albinus solve the problem sought : 
' Take one from five-pence ; what results ? ' — 'A groat.' 
' Good I you're the boy to thrive ! But come, explain. 
If added, what ? ' — 'A tester,' — ' Good again ! ' — 
Where hearts thus trained to petty pelf we find. 
And rust like this has cankered o'er the mind, 
Who'd look for finished poems, wrought with toil, 

Respicere exemplar vilx marumque jubebo 

DocCum imitatorem et vivas hinc daceie voces. 

Inteidum speciosa locis montaque recte 

Fabula nullius veneris, sine pondere et arte, 3SD 

Valdius oblectat populum meliusque moratat 

Quam versus inopes rerum nugseque canors. 

Grsis ingenium, Gtais dedit ore rotundo 
Musa loqut, prater laudem nullius avaria. 

Romflni pueri longis rationibus assem 325 

Discunt in partes centum diiiucere, ' Dicat 
Filius Albini : Si de quincunce lemota est 
Uncia, quid superat? Poteras diiiase.' ' Triens.' ' Eu ! 
Rem poteris servare Cuam 1 Redit uncia, quid fit ? ' 
' Semis.' At hxc animol xrugo et cura peculi 330 

Cum semel imbueril, speramus catmina liilgi 

D,o, by Google 


Worthy the cypress case and cedar oil ? 

To teach — to please — comprise the poet's views. 
Or else at once to profit and amuse. 
In precept be concise. What thus is told 
The mind shall grasp with ease, with firmness hold ; 
.While all that's heaped superfluous shocks the taste, 
From menwry's tablet fades, and runs to waste. 
Let fancy's wild creation, though designed 
Less to improve than to amuse the mind. 
Copied at least from nature's scene appear, 
■ And to a semblance of the truth adhere. 
Nor tax the reader's faith too far, or draw 
The breathing infant from the goblin's maw. 
Graybeards will damn what fails in useful truth ; 
Dry commonplace will pall on buxom youth ; 
But he who precept with amusement blends. 
And charms the fancy while the heart he mends. 
Wins every SHffrage, Rarely shall he miss 
To enrich the Sosii with a piece like this ; 
Seas shall it traverse, and the writer's page 
Hand down his glories to a distant age. 

Posse linenda cedro el levi servanda cupresso? 
• Aut prodesse volunt aut delectate poetfe, 
Ant simul el jucunda et idonea dicece vita:. 
Quicqnid ptaecipies, eslo brevis, ut cito dicta 
Perdpiant animi docilea teaeantque lideles. 
Omne supervacuum pleno de pectoie manat. 
Ficta voluptatis causa sint pTOxima veris, 
Ne quodcunque veiit poscat sibi fabula ctedi, 
Neu pransx Lamix vivum puerum extrahat alvo. 
Centurix seniorum agitant expertia frugis; 
Ceisi praelereant austera poemata Ramnes: 
Omne tnlit punctum qui miscuil utile dnici, 
Lcctorem delectando pariterque monendo; 
Hie meret sera liber Sosiis; hie et mare transit 
Et longum noto scriptori prorogat oevum. 

D,o, by Google 

Yet there occur in almost every book 
Specks which the nicest taste must overlook. 
For neither always will the minstrel's lyre 
Give back the note his ear and hand require ; 
He asks a grave, the chord a sharp remits ; 
The archer aims, the bow not always hits. 
If then a poem charm me in the main, 
Slight faults I'll not too rigidly arraign. 
Which frail humanity has here and there 
Let fall from oversight or want of care. 
To draw the line, then, thus our case will stand : 
As that transcriber who, with pen in hand, 
Though warned of lapses past, repeats the same. 
With no fair plea can parry off the blame ; — 
As all would flout the lyrist who should ring 
Harsh discord always on the selfsame string ; — 
Such is to me the ever- blonde ring bard. 
He sinks a Choerilus in my regard. 
In whom perceiving haply once awhile 
Some casual gleams of wit, I start and smile ; 
Vexed, on the other hand, if now and then 
Short fits of slumber creep on Homer's pen, — 

Sunt delicta tamen quibas ignovisse vetitnus; 
Nam neque chorda sonum reddit, quem volt manus et mi 
Poscentique gravem persipe remiltit aculum, 
Nee semper feriet quodcumque minabitur areas. 
Veriun ubl pluri nitent in carmine, non ego paucis 
OHcndar maculis, quai aut incuria fudit, 
Aut humana paium cavit natura. Quid ergo est? 
Ut sciiptor si peccat idem librarius usque, 
Quamvis est monitus, venia caret-, ut cilharcediis 
Ridetur, chorda qui sempcT oberrat eadem ; 
Sic mihi, qui multum ceisat, lit Ch<eci1u» ille, 
Quem bis terve bonum cum riau miror; et idem 
lodignor quandoque bonus dormitat Homerus. 

Dpi .?d by Google 


Howbeit at times the noblest bard, I think. 
In works of long attempt may fairly wink. 
For poems are like pictures : some appear 
Best in the distance, others standing near ; 
This loves the shade, while that the li^t endures, 
Nor shims the nicest ken of coimoisseurs ; 
' Thb charms for once, and then the charm is o'er. 
While that, the more surveyed, still charms the more. 

Hear, elder youth ! and mark my maxim well 
(Though by a lather's lessons you excel 
In judgment sound, and all his taste inherit) : 
A middling worth, a modicum of merit 
To certain arts the world may well concede. 
In court or chamber, this, perhaps, shall plead, 
Short of Messala's skill, his client's cause. 
That, short of Aulus' depth, expound the laws. 
Yet each of use, each in request may be ; 
Retained, consulted, each may earn his fee. 
But of poetic worth a moderate share 
Not men, not gods, not booksellers can bear. 

Verum open longo fas est obrepere somnuTn. 
Ut pictura, poesis; erit qux, si propiua stes. 
Te capiat magis, et qufedam, si longius absles; 
Haec Imit obscnrum; volet hiec suh luce vtderi, 
Judicis argutum qu^e non fomiidat acumenj 
Hsec placuil acmel, hsc decies repelita placebit. 

O major juvenum, qnamvia et voce palerna 
Fingeris ad rectum et per te sapis, hoc tibi dictum 
Tolle mcmoi, cerlis medium ct toleiabilc rebua 
Recte concedi. Consnllua juris et actor 
Causarum mediocris abest virtute diserti 
Messabe, nee scit quantum Cascellius Aulus, 
Bed tunen in prelio est; mediocribus esse poelii 
Non bominei, non di. non concessere columns. 

D,o, by Google 


As music out of tune at festive board, 
Seed-cakes of honey from Sardinia stored. 
Or unguents void of scent, each guest displease. 
Because the feast might well dispense with these ; 
So verse, whose office and essential end 
Is to delight the soul, — unless it tend 
To aid, not mar, the purpose of its birth. 
Fails in the balance and is nothing- worth. 
He that ne'er joined the lists in Mars's field, 
Forbears to take up arms he cannot wield ; 
He that ne'er pitched the quoit nor tossed the ball 
Nor whirled the troque, shuns to contend at all, 
Fearing the titter of the crowded ring; — 
Yet he sings verse who never learned to sing, 
' Why not ' {says one) , ' of knight's estate secure. 
Of liberal birth, fair fame, and morals pure?' 
Nought e'er will you, I'm sure, in nature's spite, 
{Such is your sense and prudence) speak or write. 
But, if at some chance hour you aught compose, 
Sec 'tis correct ere to the world it goes ; 
Submit it first to Tarpa's critic ears, 

Ut gralas inter mensas symphonia discors 

Et crassum unguentum et Snrdo cum melle pspaver 

Offend unt, potetat duci quia cena sine istis: 

Sic animis natum inventumque poema juvanilis. 

Si paulum summo decessjt, vergit ad itnum. 

Ludere qui nescit, campeslribus abstinet armis, 

Indoctusque pibe lilscive trochive tjuiescit, 

Ne spissse risum tollant impune coronse; 

Qui nescit versus lanien audet fingere. 'Quidni? 

Libei et ingenuus, prEesertim census equealTcm 

Summam nummoiuin, vitioque remotus ab omni.' 

Tu nihil invita dices faciesve Minerva; 

Id lihi judicium est, ea mens. Si quid lamen olim 

Scripseris, in Mxci deacendat judicis autes 

D,o, by Google 


Vour sire's, and mine ; and keep your piece nine years. 
What is not published you can blot or burn; 
Bui words, once uttered, never can return. 

Orpheus of old, Heaven's prophet and high priest. 
Drew from their butcherous coil and wildwood feast 
Barbarian hordes, hence fabled to assuage 
The tiger's ravin and gaunt lion's rage. 
Amphion, too, who reared the Theban towers, 
Was said by his soft shell's persuasive powers 
To heave the marble fragment from its base 
And witch the stones at pleasure to their place. 
For in those olden times the sage's art 
Was but to circumscribe men's rights, and part 
Public from private, sacred from profane, 
Protect just wedlock, vagrant lust restrain, 
Build rampired towns, engrave their laws on wood, 
And knit the bands of social brotherhood. 
Thus verse seemed Heaven's own gift in times so rude, 
And thus high reverence to the bard accrued. 
Next Homer rose in epic glory bright ; 
And bold Tyrtzeus roused to martial tight 

El patiis et nostras, nonumqae prematur in annum, 

Membranis intos positis. Delere licebit 

Quod non edideris; nesclt vox missa reverli. S 

SilvestrM homines sacer iateipiesque deonun 
Csedibus et victu fccdo detetruit Orpheus, 
Dictns ob hoc leniie tigres rabidosque leones. 
Dictus et Amphion Thebanae conditor urbis 
Sana movere sono testudinis et piece blanda 3 

Ducere quo vellet. Fuit hxc sapientia quondam, 
Pnblica privatia secernere, sacra profanis, 
Concubitu ptohibere vago, dare juia maritii, 
Oppida moliri, leges incideie ligno. 

Caiminibus venit. Post bos insignis Momerui 
Tyrtsusque mares animos in Marlia bella 

D,o, by Google 


Embattled hosts. In verse were now made known 
Fate's high behests, in verae life's duties shown. 
By tuneful flatteries every muse's son 
The smile of mighty monarchs sought and won; 
And verse supplied, at labor's welcome close, 
A cheering pastime and a sweet repose. 
Thus much, lest haply by a blush you wrong 
The choir Pierian and the god of song. 

"Tis asked, if this same knack its rise must owe 
To plodding art, or from boon nature flow. 
To me nor art without rich gifts of mind. 
Nor yet mere genius rude and unrefined, 
Seems equal to the task. They each require 
The aid of each, arid must as friends conspire. 
He who to Pisa's goal would foremost run. 
Much from his youth has suffered, much has done ; 
Has sweated, shivered, patient to resign 
The soul-enfeebling joys of love and wine. 
The Pythian piper has been fain to plod 
The weary task, and shrunk beneath the rod. 
But in this art, forsooth, one needs but say — 

Versibus exacuit; dictie per carraina sortes, 
Et vita: monstrata via est; et gratia regum 
Pieriis tentata modis, ladiuqne leperlus 
Et lonEoruni operuin finis: ne forte pudori 
Sit tibi Musa \ytx sollers et cantor Apollo. 

Nalura fleret iaudabiie carmen an arte 
Qiuesitmn est; ego nee studium sine divite vena. 
Nee rude quid prosit video ingeoium; allerius sic 
Altera poscit opem res, et conjurat amice. 
Qui studet optatam cursu contingere metam, 
Multa tulit fecitque puer, sudavit et alsit, 
Abstinuit v«neie el vino. Qui Pythia cantat 
Tibicen, didicit prius extimuitque oiagistrum. 
Nunc satis est dixisse: 'Ego niirs poemala pango; 

D,o, by Google 


' I'm bom a. poet ; blockheads, clear the way ! 
Plague take the hindmost ! Genius scoms to own 
Dull precept's aid, or what's unlearnt unknown.' 

As some sly mountebank with trumpet loud 
To buy his wares invites a gaping crowd, 
So would-be poets, rich in purse and land. 
Tempt with fine pennyworths the flattering band. 
Is there a scribbler who can well afford 
With liiscious cates to crown a smoking board, 
Can bail the wretch whose credit flags, and draw 
The foot of beggary from the noose of law, 
Twere passing strange if such a coxcomb knew 
The difference 'twixt a false friend and a true. 
Be then advised ; and — does the varlet live 
To whom you aught have given or mean to give, 
Brimful of gratitude for favors past. 
With hopes those favors shall not prove the last — 
Him, when to friends you would some piece rehearse, 
Ask not to sit in judgment on your verse. 
For 'good ! rare ! charming ! ' will be alt his cry. 
While tears of transport trickle from his eye ; 
Anon enraptured from his seat he'll bound, 

Occapet extiemum scabies; mihi turpe relinqui est 
Et quod nan didici sane nescite fateci.' 

Ut prxco, ad merces turbam qui cc^t emendes, 
AneDtatores jubet ad lucrum lie poeta 
Dive» agris, dives posilis in fenore nurnmis. 
Si veio est ucctum qui recte ponere posut, 
Et spondere levi pro paupere, et eripere aim 
titibus implicitum, miiBboi, si sciet intec- 
Nosceie mendacem verumque beatus amicum. 
Tu Mu donaris, seu quid donare vo1e» cui, 
Nolito 3d venus tibi factos ducere plenum 
Lxtitia:; clamabit enim ' Fulchre ! benel lectel' 
I^letcet super his, etiam stillabit amicis 


HORACE. [130-444 

Change color, clap his hands, and stamp the ground. 

As with hired mummeis in a funeral train, 

Who feel the grief rant less than those who feign ; 

So wiU the laugher-in-his-sleeve appear 

More moved than one whose praises are sincere. 

Wise kings, 'tis said, who prudently intend 

To prove the courtier ere they call him friend. 

Ply him with copious bumpers, till the bowl 

Has gently wrung each secret from the soul. 

Bards ! watch your critics, lest a borrowed skin 

With specious covering mask the fox within. 

If to Quintilius you recited aught, 
' Pray change,' he'd say, 'this word ; retouch that thought.' 
If you protested that the passage penned 
You twice or thrice had toiled in vain to mend, 
' Blot out then,' he'd reply, ' the ill-wrought strain ! 
Back to the anvil with this trash again ! ' 
If you choose rather to dispute his taste 
Than mend your piece, no further would he waste 
Or time or pains, but leave you to admire 
Yourself and doggerel to your heart's desire. 

Ex oculis rorem, saliet, tiindet pede terrain. 430 

Ut qui conducli plorant in Cunere, dicunt 

Et faciunt prope plura dolentibus ex animo, sic 

Derisor vera plus laudatore movetni. 

Reges dicuntur multis urgete culullia 

Et lorquere mero quern perspexisse laborant, 436 

An sil amicitia dignus: si carmina. conites, 

Nunquam te fallant animi sub volpe latentei. 

Quintiiio si quid recilares, ' Cortige stxles 
Hoc,' aiebat, ' et hoc; ' melius te posse negares 
Bis terque experlum fcustra, delere jubebat 440 

Et male lornatos incudi reddere versus. 
Si defendere delictum quam veitere malles. 
Nullum ultra verlium aut opciam insumeliat inanem, 
Quin sine rival! teque ct lua solus amares. 

D,o, by Google 


The genuine critic will with honest zeal. 
Feigning no raptures which he does not feel, 
Trim all redundant ornament away. 
On the obscure let in a lucid ray. 
Blot the ambiguous, blame the loosely penned, 
And prove the Aristarchus in the friend. 
Nor will he say — ' Why rudely should I tease 
The friend I love for trifles such as these?' 
For know, these trifles, while you lack the will 
To speak plain truth, oft lead to serious ill. 
As to his cost that friend erelong shall own, 
When made the butt and byword of the town. 

As the lorn wretch whom leprous scabs devour 
Or jaundice gilds, one by Diana's power 
Moon-stricken, or by Pan convulsed with fits, 
Such is the poet who has lost his wits. 
The wise all shun him, while a heedless throng 
Hoot at his heels where'er he prowls along. 
Bellowing his verse with head upreajed, his eye 
' Rolling in frenzy fine ' from earth to sky. 
If (like a fowler on his feathered prey 

Vir bonus et pnidens veisus leprehendet ineites, 
Culpabit duros, incompljs adiinet alrum 
Transverso csJamo signnm, ambltiosa recidet 
Ornaments, parum claris lucem daie cogct, 
ArguiC ambigue dictum, mutanda ootabtt, 
Fiet Aristarchus; non dicet, 'Cur ego amicum 
Ofiendam in di^s?' Hie nugx leria ducent 
In mala dcrisum semel exceptumque stnislie. 

Ut mala quern scabies aut morbus regius uiget, 
Aut fanaticus error et iracunda Diana, 
Vesanum tetigjsse timent fugiuntque poetam 
Qui sapiunt; agilant pueri incautiqae sequuntur. 
Hie, duin sublimis versus ruclatur el enal. 
Si veluti merulis intentus deddit auceps 

D,o, by Google 

Intent) he chance to encounter in his way 

Some ditch or pit, he long eaough may shout 

' Help, neighbors, ho ! ' — for none will haul him out. 

But, were there some whom pity moved to fetch 

A rope and drag to hfe the crack-brained wretch, 

' Hold, sirs ! ' I'd cry. ' For aught that you can tell. 

The madcap plunged on purpose in this well, 

And wishes not to live.' Anon the fate 

Of Sicily's famed poet I'd relate : 

' Empedocles with lore celestial fraught, 

A deathless god aspiring to be thought, 

Leaped into fiery JElnn in cold blood. — 

These bards are licensed (be it understood) 

To perish as they list. Against his will 

To save a soul were barbarous as to kill. 

Nor is it his first freak ; and, were it crossed 

By your kind zeal, 'twere still but labor lost ; 

He'd soon relapse, soon play the same mad game. 

And by self- slaughter seek a deathless name. . 

Nor is it altogether clear, why first 

His bosom with this scribbUng itch was cursed. 

Who knows but vengeance bade him thus atone 

In puteum foveamve; licet ' SuccurtJte ' longum 
Clametj'Io cives!' non sit qui tollere curet. 
Si cuiet quis opem ferre et demitlere funem. 
'Qui scis ui prudens hue se projecerit atque 
Servari nolit?' dicam, Siculjque poetx 
Narrabo inteTllum. ' Deus immortalis haberi 
Dum cupit Empedoclea, ardentero frigidus ^Inam 
Insiluil. Sit ius liceatque perire poetis; 
Invitum qui serv*C, idem facit occidenti. 
Nee semel hoc fecit, nee, si rettactus erit, jam 
¥\et homo et ponet famosa: mortis amorcni. 
Nee satis apparet, cur versus factitet; ntrum 
Minxerit in patrios eineres, an triste bidental 

D,o, by Google 


Sins of deep dye ? who knows but he has thrown 
Some dread ' bidental ' from its hallowed base, 
Or to a father's ashes done disgrace ? 
One thing is plain : he has his fits of rage. 
And then, as if some bear had burst its cage, 
With loathsome recitation puts to flight 
Learned and simple. Woe betides the wight. 
Who meets his clutch at that unlucky time, — 
Him will he read to death and stun with rime ; 
A very leech that drains our vital flood, 
Nor quits his ruthless hold till gorged with blood 1 ' 

Moverit incestua : certe furit, ac velut ursus 
Dbjectos caveat valmt si frangeie clathros, 
Indoctum doctumque fugat lecitator acerbusj 
Qucm vero arrjpuit, tenet occidilque legendo, 
Non missuia cutem, nisi plena ctuoiis, hirudo.' 

D,o, by Google 

Dioiir^ci by Google 


D,o, by Google 

Dioiir^ci by Google 




GIVE me, ye sacred Muses, to impart 
The hidden secrets of your tuneful art ; 
Give me your awful mysteries to sing, 
Unlock and open wide your sacred spring ; 
While from his infancy the bard I lead 
And set him on your mountain's lofty head. 
Direct his course, and point him out the road 
To sing in epic strains a hero or a god. 

What youth, whose generous bosom pants for praise. 
Will dare with me to beat those arduous ways, 
O'er high Parnassus' painful steeps to go. 
And leave the groveling multitude below, — 
Where the glad Muses sing and form the choir, 
Where bright Apollo strikes the silver lyre? 

SIT fas vesica mihi vulgaie arcana per oihecn, 
Pieritles, penitusque sa^ros recludere funtes, 
Dum vatem egregium tenens educere ab annis, 
Heroum qui facta canat, laudesve Deorum, 
Mente agjito, veatrique in veitice sislere montis. 

Ecquis eric juvenum, segni qui plebe reljcta 
Sub peilibus, pulchia; laudis auccensus amore, 
Auait inaccessx mecum se credeie Tupi, 
Liette ubi Pierides, cithara dum pulcher Apollo 
Peisonat, indulgent clioreis, et carmina dicunt? 

Dpi .?d by Google 


Approach thou first, great Francis, nor refuse 
To pay due honors to the sacred Muse ; 
While Gallia waits for thy auspicious reign, 
Till age completes the monarch in the man. 
Meantime the Muse may bring some small rehef. 
To charm thy anguish and suspend thy grief, 
While guilty fortune's stem decrees detain 
Thee and thy brother in the realms of Spain, 
Far, far transported from your native place. 
Your country's, father's, and your friends' embrace ! 
Such are the terms the cruel &tes impose 
On your great father, struggling with his woes. 
Such are their hard conditions : — they require 
The sons to purchase and redeem the sire. 
But yet, brave youth, from grief, from tears, abstain. 
Fate may relent and Heaven grow mild again ; 
At last, perhaps, the glorious day may come, 
The day that brings our royal exile home ; 
When, to thy native realms in peace restored. 
The ravished crowds shall hail their passing lord ; 
When each transported city shall rejoice. 
And nations bless thee with a public voice ; 

Primus ides, Francisce, sacras ne deapice Musas, 
Regia progenies^ cui legum debita sceptra 
Callorum, cum tirma annis accesserit stas. 
Hiec tibi parva terunt jam nunc solatia dulces, 
Dum procul a patcia Taptitm, amplexuque tuocum. 
Ah doloci HiGpanis sots impia detinet oris, 
Henrico cum fratre. Patris sic fata tuletunt 
Magnanimi, dum foctuna luctatur iniqual 
Farce tamen puer a lachrymis; fata aspera foisan 
Mitescent, aderitque dies betissima tandem. 
Post Iriste enilium, patriis cum ledditua oris, 
Lfrtiliam ingentem populorum, omnesque pei urbes 
Accipies plausus, el Istas undique voces, 

D,o, by Google 

To the thronged fanes the matrons shall repair ; 
Absolve their vows, and breathe their souls in prayer. 
Till then, let every Muse engage thy love, 
With me at large o'er high Parnassus rove, 
Range every bower, and sport in every grove. 

First then observe, that verse is ne'er confined 
To one fixed measure or determined kind. 
Though at its birth it sung the gods alone, 
And then religion claimed it for her own, 
In sacred strains addressed the deity. 
And spoke a language worthy of the sky. 
New themes succeeding bards began to choose, 
And in a wider field engaged the Muse — 
The common bulk of subjects to rehearse 
In all the rich varieties of veise. 
Yet none of all with equal honors shine 
(But those which celebrate the Power Divine) 
To those exalted measures, which declare 
The deeds of heroes and the sons of war ; 
From hence posterity the name bestowed 
On this rich present of the Delphic god ; 
Fame says, Phemonoe in this measure gave 

Votaque pro reditu peisolvent debila matres. 
Interea te IHeridei comitentur; in alios 
Jam te Pamassi mecum aude atlollete lucos. 

Pnetereat genus esse, licet celebranda tepeiti 
Ad SBcra sint tanlum versus, laudcsve Deoruro 
Dicendas, ne relligio sine hoDore jaceret; 
Nam traxere eliatn paulalim ad cxtera Mmas, 
Venibua et variii cecinerunt omnia vatei. 
Sed Dulloin e niunero carnten prcestantius omni, 
Quam quo, post Divos, beroum facta recensent, 
Versibus unde etiani nomen feceie minores, 
Monere concetsum Pbcebi venerabile donum 

D,o, by Google 


ApoUo's answers from the Pythian cave. 

But ere you write, consult your strength, and choose 
A theme proportioned justly to your Muse. 
For though in chief these precepts are bestowed 
On him who sings a hero or a god. 
To other themes their general use extends, 
And serves in different views to different ends. 
Whether the lofty Muse, with tragic rage. 
Would proudly stalk in buskins on the stage ; 
Or in soft elegies our pity move, 
And show the youth in all the flames of love ; 
Or sing the shepherd's woes in humble strains. 
And the low humors of contending swauis ; 
These faithful rules shall guide the bard along 
In every measure, argument, and song. 

Be sure, whatever you propose to write. 
Let the chief motive be your own delight 
And well-weighed choice. A task enjoined refuse. 
Unless a monarch should command your Muse 

Phemonoes, qu:e prima dedit, ai vera vetustas, 
Ei adylo baud aliis numeris responsa per orbem. 

Tu vero ipse humeros eiplorans consule piimum, 
Atque tuis prudens genua elige viribus aptum. 
Nam licet hie Divos, >c Diis genitos beroas 
In primis doceam cauere, et res dicere gestas, 
Hkc tamen jnterdum mea le pisecepla juvabunt, 
Scu scenam ingrediens populo spectacula pr^ebes, 
Sive elegis juvenum Ucbrymas quibus igne medullas 
Urit amor, seu pastorum de more querelas 
Et lites Siculi valia modularis avena; 
Sive aliud quodcunque canis, quo carmine cunque, 
Nunquam bine, ne dubita, prorsum inconsultus abibis. 

Atque ideo quodcunque audes, quodcunque paralus 
Aggrederis, tibi sit placitum, atque arriserit ultra 
Ante animo; nee jussa canas, nisi forte coactus 
Magnorum imperio regum. siquis tamen usquam est 

Droiir^ci by Google 

(If we may hope those golden times to see. 
When bards become the care of majesty) . 
Free and spontaneous the smooth numbers glide. 
Where choice determines and our wills preside ; 
But, at command, we toil with fruitless pain. 
And drag the involuntary load in vain. 

Nor, at its birth, indulge your warm desire, 
On the first glimmering of the sacred fire ; 
Defer the mighty task, and weigh your power. 
And every part in every view explore ; 
And let the theme in different prospects roll 
E>eep in your thoughts, and grow into the soul. 

But ere with sails unfurled you Ry away, 
And cleave the bosom of the boundless sea, 
A fund of words and images prepare, 
And lay the bright materials up with care, 
Which, at due time, occasion may produce, 
All ranged in order for the poet's use. 
Some happy objects by mere chance are brought 
From hidden causes to the wandering thought, 

Primores inter noslros qui Ulia curel. 
Omnia sponte sua, qiue nos elegimus ipsj, 
Proveniunt, diuo assequimur vix jusia labore. 

Sed neque cum primum tibi mentem inopina cupido, 
Atque repens calor illigerit, subito aBEfediendmn eat 
Magnum opua; adde motam, tecumque impensjus ante 
Consule, quicquid id est, partesque expende per omnes 
Mente diu vcTsans, donee nova cura senescat. 

Ante etiam pelago quam pandas vela patent!, 
Incumbasque operi incipiens, tibi digna supellei 
Verboram rerumque paranda est, proque videnda 
Instant multa prios, quorum vatum indiget usus; 
111k lempus erit mox cum la^tabere partis. 
Sponte sua, dum forte etiam nil tale putamus, 
In mentero qnsedam veniuni, quie forsitau, ullro 

D,o, by Google 


Which, if once lost, you labor long in vain 
To catch the ideal fugitives again. 
Nor must I fail their conduct to extol, 
Who, when they lay the basis of the whole, 
' Explore the ancients with a watchful eye, 
J^Jiy all their charms and elegancies by, 
- Then to their use the precious spoils apply. 

At first without the least restraint compose. 
And mold the future poem into prose, 
A full and proper series to maintain, 
And draw the just connection In a chain, 
By stated bounds your progress to control. 
To join the parts, and regulate the whole. 

And now 'tis time to spread the opening sails 
Wide to the wanton winds and flattering gales ; 
Tis time we now prescribe the genuine laws 
To raise the beauteous fabric with applause ; 
But first some method requisite appears 
To form the boy, and mold his tender years. 
In vain the bard the sacred wreath pursues. 

Si semel excidetint, nunquam revocata redibunt, 
Atqae eadem Studio frustra eipectabis inani. 
Nee mihi non placeant, qui, fuiHlamenta laborum 
Cum jaciunl, veterum explorant opera inclyta vatum 
NoctES Btque dies, passimque accommoda cogunt 
Auxilia, intentique aciem pet cuncta volulint. 

Quin eliam prius efligiem formare solntis 
Toti usque operis simulachrum fingete verbis 
Pioderit, atque omnes en ordiae nectere partes, 
Et seriem rerum, el cerloi (ibi ponere lines, 
Per quos tuta legens vesligia tendere peigas. 

Jamque hie tempus erat dare vela vocantibus Eilris, 
Condendique operis primas pra^scribere leges: 
At prius setati tener^ quie cura colendx 
Dicendam, quantus puero labor impendendus. 

D,o, by Google 

m} BOOK I. 

Unless trained up and seasoned to the Muse. 

Soon as the prattling innoceat shall reach 

To the fiist use and rudiments of speech. 

Even then by Helicon he ought to rove, 

Even then the tunefiil Nine should win his love 

By just degrees. — But make his guide your choice ■ 

For his chaste phrase and elegance of voice. 

That he at first successfully may teach 

The methods, laws, and discipline of speech ; 

Lest the young charge, mistaking right and wrong, 

With vicious habits prejudice his tongue. 

Habits, whose subtle seeds may mock your art. 

And spread their roots and poison through his heart. 

Whence none shall move me to approve the wretch. 

Who, wildly borne above the vulgar reach, 

And big with vain pretences to impart 

Vast shows of learning and a depth of art. 

For sense the impertinence of terms affords, 

An idle cant of formidable words. 

The pride of pedants, the delight of fools, 

Nolli etenim insignem dabitur gealare coranam, 
fleridum choteai teneiis nisi norit ab annii. 
Postcjuam igiiuT primas hniii puer hauaeril artes. 
Jam tunc incipiat rigaos accedere fonles, 
Et Phcebum, et dulces Musas assuescat amare. 
Ilia autem paivuni qui primU arlibus ante 
Imboit, atque modos docuit legesque 1u(|uendi, 
Sincerus vocis, cuperem, ac putisBimus ori* 
Contigerit, fandi ne fois puer atque nefandi 
Nescius imbibetit male gratx semina lingua, 
Qux post infects ex animo radicitus ulla 
Non valeas, meliora doceng, evellere cura. 
Idciico mihi ne qoiaqnam petsuadeat oro, 
Ul placeant qui (dum cupiunt te numine ixva 
Tollete humo, et penitua jaclant «e ignota ducere) 

D,o, by Google 


The vile disgrace and lumber of the schools. 
In vain the circling youths, a bloomii^ throng. 
Dwell on the eternal jargon of his tongue ; 
Deluded foob ! The same is their mistake. 
Who at the limpid stream their thirst may slalce, 
Yet choose the tainted waters of the lake. 
Let no such pest approach the blooming care, 
Deprave his style, and violate his ear ; 
But far, oh far, to some remoter place 
Drive the vile wretch to teach a barbarous race ! 

Now to the Muse's stream the pupil bring. 
To drink large draughts of the Pierian spring. 
And from his birth the sacred bard adore 
Nursed by the Nine on Mincio's flowery shore. 
And ask the gods his numbers to inspire 
With like invention, majesty, and fire. 
He reads Ascanius' deeds with equal flame. 
And longs with him to run at nobler game. 

Conventu in medio, Mptiqne impube coron>, 
Insolito penitus fandi de more magislri, 
Obscutas gandent in vulgum spargere voces 
Irrisi, foedam illuviem, atqne immania monstra. 
Non minus a rectae mentis ratione feruntur 
Decepti, quam qui, liquidi cum pocula fontes 
Sufliciant, malunt grave -olen tern haurire paludem, 
Ne mihi, ne tenerx lalii se admoverit auri, 
Sed procnl o procul ista feral, natoaqoe Getarum 
Imbuat, ant si qua est gens loto obtusior orbe, 

Jamijue igitur mea cuca puer penetralia vatum 
Ingrediatur, et Aonia se proluat unda: 
Jamque sacrum teneris vatem veneretur ab annis, 
Quein Musx Mine! hetbosis aluere sub antrit, 
Atqne olim similcm poscal sibi numina versnni, 
Admirans arteoi, admirans praeclara repetta. 
Nee mora, jam favet Ascanio, tactusque dolore 
Impubes legit eequates, quos impius hausit 

D,o, by Google 

For youths of ages past he makes his moan, 
And learns to pity years so like his own, 
Which with too swift and too severe a doom 
The fate of war had hurried to the tomb. 
His eyes for Pallas and for Lausus flow, 
Mourn with their sires, and weep another's woe. 
But when Euryalus, in all his charms. 
Is snatched by fate from his dear mother's arms. 
And, as he rolls in death, the purple flood 
Streams out, and stains his snowy limbs with blood, 
His soul the pangs of generous sorrow pierce. 
And a new tear steals out at every verse. 
Meantime with bolder steps the youth proceeds. 
And the Greek poets in succession reads ; 
Seasons to either tongue his tender ears ; 
Compares the heroes' glorious characters ; 
Sees how £neas is himself alone, 
TTie draft of Peleus' and Laertes' son. 
How by the poet's art in one conspire 
Ulysses' conduct and Achilles' fire. 

But now, young bard, with strict attention hear. 

Ante diem Mavon, et aceibo fnnere mersit. 
Mnlta super Lauso, super et Pallante petempto 
Malta logat, lachrynras inter quoque singula fundit 
Cannina, crudeli cum raptum morte parenti 
Ah 1 miserx legit Euryalum, pulchrosque per actus 
Putpureum, leto dum volvilur, ice cruorem. 
Ncc non inteiei Gcaios accedere vales 
Audeat, et linguam teneris assueacat ntramque 
Auribus, execcens nunc hatic, nunc impigec illam. 
Nulla mora est, noatco Mnex jam eonferet igneis 
.^ciden flagrantem animia, Ithacumque vagantem, 
Atque ambos sxpe impellet concuccece vates. 

Nunc geminas, puet, buc auces, hue dlcige mentem. 
Nacn, quia non paucos parte ei utraque poetas 

D,o, by Google 


And drink my precepts in at either ear ; 

Since mighty crowds of poets you may find. 

Crowds of the Grecian and Ausonian kind, 

Learn hence what bards to quit or to pursue, 

To shun the false, and to embrace the true. 

Nor is it hard to cull each noble piece, 

And point out every glorious son of Greece, 

Above whose numbers Homer sits on high. 

And shines supreme in distant majesty ; 

Whom with a reverent eye the rest regard. 

And owe their raptures to the sovereign bard ; 

Through him the god their panting souls inspires, 

Swelb every breast, and warms with all his fires. 

Blest were the poets, with the hallowed rage. 

Trained up in that and the succeeding age ; 

As to his time each poet nearer drew 

His spreading fame in just proportion grew ; 

By like degrees the next degenerate race 

Sunk from the height of honor to disgrace. 

And now the fame of Greece extinguished lies. 

Her ancient language with her glory dies ; 

Her banished princes mourn their ravished crowns, 

Nostrosque, Gtaiosque tibi se ofTerre vtdebb, 
Quos hie evites, quibus ideni lidere tutus 
Evaieas, dicam, ne quis te fallete possit. 
Haud multus labor autores tibi prodere Graios, 
Quus inter potitur scepEiis insignia Homerus: 
Hunc omnes alii observant, hinc pectore numen 
Concipiunt vates, blandumque Heliconis amorein. 
Felices quos iUa aetas, qnos protulit illi 
Proiima. Divino quanto quisque ortus Homero 
Vicinus magis, est tan to prxstantior omnia. 
DegeneranC adeo magis ac magis usque minores, 
Obliti veterum prxclara invenEa patentum. 
Jamque fere Inachix lestincta est gloiia lingux 

D,o, by Google 

Driven from their old hereditary thrones ; 
Her drooping natives rove o'er worlds unknown, 
And weep their woes in regions not their own ; 
She feels through all her states the dreadful blow, 
And mourns the fury of a barbarous foe. 

But when our bards brought o'er the Aonian maids 
From their own Helicon to Tiber's shades, 
When first they settled on Hesperia's plains, 
Their numbers ran in rough unpoUshed strains ; 
Void of the Grecian art their measures flowed. 
Pleased the wild satyrs and the sylvan crowd. 
Low shrubs and lofty forests whilom rung 
With uncouth verse and antiquated song ; 
Nor yet old Ennius sung in artless strains. 
Fights, arms, and hosts embatded on the plains, 
Who firet aspired to pluck the verdant crown 
From Grecian heads, and fix it on his own. 
New wonders the succeeding bards explore, 
Which slept concealed in Nature's womb before : 
Her awful secrets the bold poet sings, 

OmnJK, et Acgolici jussi concedete avitii 
Sunt puUi fcges soliis, civesque coacti 
Diversa exilia, alqne alieruts qua^ere lerns. 
Hue illuc inopes eirant: habet omnia victor 
Barbaras, et veisU miac Inget Gixcia fatis. 

Nostri autem, ut sanctum Divas Helicona colentes 
Oxpecunt primum in Latium transferre, tlaebant 
Verau incomposito intormes, artisque Felas^ 
Indocites Muss fundebant carmina agrestj, 
Sylvicolas inter Faunos: tunc omne lonabal 
Arbustom fieinitu sylvai frandosai. 
Nondom acies, nondura arma rudi paler Ennius oie 
Tcntacal, qui mox Grain de vertice primus 
Ell ausns vtridem in Latio sperare coronam. 
Turn rerum causss, natom arcana, latentes 

D,o, by Google 


And sets to view the principles of things ; 

Each part was fair, and beautiful the whole. 

And every line was nectar to the soul. 

By such degrees the verse, as ages rolled, 

Was stamped to form, and took the beauteous mold ; 

Ausonia's bards drew off from every part 

The barbarous dregs, and civilized the art ; 

Till, like the day, all shining and serene. 

That drives the clouds and clears the gloomy scene, 

Refines the air and brightens up the skies, 

See the majestic head of Virgil rise, 

Phtebus' undoubted son ! — who clears the rust 

Of the rough ancients, and shakes off their dust. 

He on each line a nobler grace bestowed ; 

He thought and spoke in every word a god. 

To grace this mighty bard, ye Muses, bring 

Your choicest flowers, and rifle all the spring. 

See how the Grecian bards, at distance thrown. 

With reverence bow to this distinguished son ! 

Immortal sounds his golden lines impart, 

And naught can match his genius but his art ; 

Explorare ausi, cecinerunt caimine dulci, 
Omnk. Pierio spaigentes nee tare vates. 
Ali^ue ita tleinde rudes paulatim sumete versm 
C(eperunt form am insignem, peiiitusque Latin i 
Agrestem exuerunt morem, liquklissima donee 
Tempestas veluti caM post iiubila, et imiiies, 
Extulit OS sacrum, soboUs certissima Pho^bi, 
Virgiliiu, qui mox, veleium squalore ajtuque 
Deterso, in melius mira omnia reCtuliC arte, 
Vocem animumque Deo similis: date lilia plenis, 
Kerides, calathia, tantoque assnigite alumno ! 
' Unus hie ingenio pnestanii gentis Aehivx 
Divinos vales longe superavit, et arte, 
Aureus! immortale soDaas! stupel ipsa, pavetque. 

D,o, by Google 

Even Greece tnnis pale and trembles at his feme, 
AVhich shades the histre of her Homer's oame. 
Twas then Ansonia saw ber language rise 
In all its strength and glory to the skies ; 
Such glory never couM she boast before. 
Nor could succeeding poets make it more. 
From that blest period the poetic state 
Ran down the precipice of time and fate ; 
Degenerate souls succeed, a wretched train. 
And her old fame at once drew back again. 
One to his genius trusts in every part. 
And scorns the rules and discipline of art. 
While this an empty tide of sound aflbrds, 
And roars and thunders in a storm of words. 
Some, musically dull, all methods try 
To win the ear with sweet stupidity. 
Unruffled strains for solid wit dispense. 
And give us numbers when we call for sense. 
Till, from the Hesperian plains and Tiber chased, 
From Rome the banished Sisters fled at last, 
Driven by the barbarous nations, who from ftir 

Qoamvis ingentem mitetur Grxcia Humerum. 
tiaud alio Latium tantum se tempore JBctat: 
Tunc linguae Ausoniffi poluit quffl maxima vittus 
Esse, fuit; cceloque ingens se gloria vcxit 
Italix; sperace nefas sit vatibus ultra. 
Nulla mora, en illo in pejus tuere omnia viio, 
Degeneraie animi, atque retro tes lapsa referri. 
Hie namque ingenio confisus postliabtt artem; 
lUe foiit strepiCu, tenditque ^uaie tubarum 
Voce sonos, vetausque tonat sine more per omnei; 
Dant alii cantus vacuos, et inania verba 
Incassum, sola capti dulcedine vocis; 
Pierides donee Romam, et Tyberinn flucnta 
Deseruere, Italis ej^pulsa: protinus oris. 

D,o, by Google 


BuRt into Latiuro with a tide of war. 

Hence a vast change of their old manners sprung, 

The slaves were forced to speak their master's tongue ; 

No honors now were paid the sacred Muse, 

But all were bent on merccDary views ; 

Till I^tium saw with joy the Aonian train 

By the great Medici restored again. 

The illustrious Medici, of Tuscan race, 

Were bora to cherish learning in dbgrace, 

New life on every science to bestow. 

And lull the cries of Europe in her woe. 

With pity they beheld those turns of fate. 

And propped the ruins of the Grecian state j 

For, lest her wit should perish with her fame. 

Their care supported still the Argive name. 

They called the aspiring youths from distant parts. 

To plant Ausonia with the Grecian arts ; 

To bask in ease, and science to diH^se, 

And to restore the empire of the Muse. 

They sent to ravaged provinces with care, 

Tanti causa mali Ijitio gens aspera aperto 

Sxpius irrumpens : sunt jussi vettece morem 

Ausonidx victi, vicloris vocihus usi 

Ccsiit araoi Musarum; artes subiere repente i: 

Indignx, atque opibus cuncti incubnere patandis. 

Jampridem tamen Ausonios inviserc tursus 

Oepeiunt, Medicum revocats munere, Mnsiei 

Tusconun Medicum, quos tandem protulit xtas 

Euiopae in lanlis solamen duke ruinis. II 

nil etiaui, Graise miierati incommoda gentis, 

Ne Danaum penitus caderet cum nomine virtus. 

In Latium advectoi juvenes, juvenumque magistros, 

ArgolicBi artes quibui esset cura tueri, 

Securos Musas jussere, atque otia amare. 21 

lUi etiam captas late misere per uibes, 

D,o, by Google 

-fflv] BOOK I. 

And dties wasted by the rage of war. 
To boy the ancients' works, of deatbles Eune, 
And snatch the inunoital labors fiom the flame 
To wfakh the foes had iloonied each gkirious piece. 
Who reign and lord it in tbe'ieahns of Greece ; 
(But we, ye gods, would raise a fcveign lord. 
As yet untaught to sheathe the civil swoid '.). 
Through many a period this has been the &te. 
And this the list of the poetic state. 

Hence sacred Viigil from thy soal adore 
Above the rest, and to thy utmost power 
Pursue the glorious paths he struck before. 
If be supplies not all your wants, peruse 
The immortal strains of each Augustan Muse. 
There stop — nor rashly seek to know the rest. 
But drive the dire ambition from thy breast 
Till riper years and judgment form thy thoughts 
To mark their beauties and avoid their &ults. 

Meantime, ye parents, with attention hear. 
And, thus advised, exert your utmost care : 

Qui doctas tabula*, veterum monumenta virorum, 
MetcaEi pietiu advaherent, qux barbarus igni 
Tradebat, Danaum regnis opibusque potitus. 
Et tentamua adhuc sceptria imponere nosttis 
ExterDum, necdum civiles condimus enses! 
Il^ec Eetaa omnis, vatum i)XQ fortuna priorum. 

Ergo ipsiun ante alios animo venerare Matonero, 
Atque unum seqoere, utque potes, veslij^a serva. 
Qui s[ forte tibi non omnia sulficit unus, 
Addc illi natos eiidem quoque lempote vates. 
Parce dehinc, puer, atque alios ne quxre doceri; 
Nee te discendi capiat tarn dira cupido. 
Tempus erit, tibi mox cum firma advenerit tetns, 
Rpectatum ut cunctos impune accedcre detor. 

Interea' moniti vos hie audite, pacentes. 
Quvcrendus rector de millibus, eque Ugendus, 

D,o, by Google 


The blameless tutor from a thousand choose. 
One from his soul devoted to the Muse ; 
Who, pleased the tender pupil to improve. 
Regards and loves him with a father's love. 
Youth, of itself to numerous ills betrayed. 
Requires a prop, and wants a foreign aid ; 
Unless a master's rules his mind incline 
To love and cultivate the sacred Nine, 
His thoughts a thousand objects will employ, 
And from Parnassus lead the wandering boy. 
So trusts the swain the saplings to the earth, 
So hopes in time to see the sprouting birth ; 
Against the winds defensive props he forms, 
To shield the future forest from the storms, 
That each emboldened plant at length may rise 
In verdant pride, and shoot into the skies. 

But let the guide, if e'er he would improve 
His charge, avoid his hate and win his love. 
Lest in his rage wrong measures he may take, 

Sicubi Musaruni sludiis insignis. et arte, 
Qui CUTIS dulces, cariqne parentis aroorem 
laduat, atque velit blandum perferre kborem. 
Ilia suis niti nondum ausit viribus a^tas, 
Eitern^ sed ppis, aiienieque indiga cune est. 
Nam puerum, ni pr^esentia via fida rcgentia 
Adsit, et hunc dulcem studiorum infundat amoTem, 
Illecebne sacris avertsnt mille Camcenis, 
Deceptum falsa melioris imagine cuts. 
Sic quogue abi cultts plantas defodit in hoitis 
Agricola, et teneras telluri credidit almx, 
Fraxineoa contos subito erigil, et sua cuique 
Robora, ut inoixse ventos cieligue ruinam 
Contemnant, surgantque leves impuiie pei auras. 

Ille autem, pueri cui credita cuia colendi 
Aitibus egregiis, in primis opteE amari, 
Atquc odium carl super omnia vilel alumni ; 

D,o, by Google 

-280] BOOK 1. 

And loathe the Muses for the teacher's sake. 
His soul then slackened from her native force. 
Flags at the barrier and foists the couise. 
Nor by your anger be the youth o'erawed". 
But scorn the ungenerous province of the rod ; 
The offended Muses never can sustain 
To hear the shriekings of the tender train, 
But, stung with grief and anguish, hang behind. 
Damped is the sprightly vigor of the mind ; . 
The boy no daring images inspire, 
No bright ideas set his thoughts on fire ; 
He drags on heavily the ungrateful load. 
Grown obstinately dull, and seasoned to the rod. 

I know a pedant, who to penance brought 
His trembling pupils for the lightest fault, 
His soul transported with a storm of ire. 
And all the lage that malice could inspire ; 
By turns the torturing scoui^es we might hear. 
By turns the shrieks of wretches stunned the ear. 
Still to my mind the dire ideas rise, 

Ne forte et sacras simul odeHE ille Camcenas 
Imprudens, et adbuc tantx dulcedinis expers; 
DefJciantque animi atudiorutn in limine primo. 
Ponile CTudeles iras eE tiagca, magistri, 
F<eda minisleria, atque minis absiEtite acerbis. 
Ne mitii ne, qua:so, pueriun quis verbera cogat 
Dura pati; neque enim lachrymal, auC dulcis alumni 
Feire queiint Musae gemitus, segrseque lecedunt; 
Illiusque cadunt animi, nee jam amplius audet 
Sponte SUB quicquam egregium, ingratumque laborem 
Invitus ttahit Ecgre, aniqioque ad verbera dutat. 

Vidi ego, qui semper levia ob commissa vocal^t 
Ad ptenam' pueros, furiis insurgere, et ira 
Tembilem, invisos veluti Keviret in hostes; 
Hinc semper gemitui, hinc verbera dira sunabant. 
Atque equidcm memini, cum formidatus iniquis 

D,o, by Google 


When rage unusual sparkled in his eyes ; 

When with the dreadful scourge insulting loud. 

The tyrant terrified the blooming crowd. 

A boy, the fairest of the frighted train, 

Who yet scarce gave the promise of a man, 

Ah dismal object ! idly passed the day 

In all the thoughtless innocence of play ; 

When lo ! the imperious wretch, inflamed with rage. 

Fierce, and regardless of his tender age. 

With fury storms ; the fault his clamors urge ; 

His hand high-waving brandishes the scourge ; 

Tears, vows, and prayers, the tyrant's ears assail. 

In vain ; nor tears, nor vows, nor prayers, prevail. 

The trembling innocent from deep despair 

Sickened, and breathed his little soul in air. 

For him beneathi his poplar mourns the Po, 

For him the tears of hoary Serius flow, 

For him their tears the witery sisters shed. 

Who loved him living, and deplored him dead I 

The furious pedant, to restrain his rage. 

Should mark the example of a former age, 

Urgeret pcenis, solitoque tmmanior ille 
Terreret turbam invalidam, (mberabile visa!) 
ForEe puer prima signans nondum ura juventa, 
Insignis facie ante alios, cxegerat omnem 
Cum sociis ludens luceni, obliluaque timoris 
Posthabuit ludu jussus ediscere versus. 
Ecce! furens animis multa increpat ille, minisque 
Insurgens sxvo pavitalem terrilal ore 
Horrendum, et loris deitram ctudelibiis araiit. 
Quo subito tcnore puer miserabilis acri 
Conipitui moibo; parvo is post tempore vitam 
CrescenteiD blanda ccelj sub luce reliquit. 
Illiun populifer Padus, ilium Serius imis 
Seriadesque diu Nympha; flevere sub uncbs. 
Tempore jam ex. illo, vatem cum duia jubentem 

D,o, by Google 

■281] BOOK I. 

How fierce Alcides, warmed with youthful ire, 
Dashed on his master's front his vocal lyre. 
But yet, ye youths, confess your masters' sway, 
And their commands implicitly obey. 

Whoever then this arduous task pursues. 
To form the bard and cultivate the Muse, 
Let him by sofler means and milder ways. 
Warm his ambition with the love of praise. 
Soon as his precepts shall engage his heart. 
And fen the rising fire in every part. 
Light is the task ; for then the eager boy 
Pursues the voluntary toil with joy. 
Disdains the inglorious indolence of rest. 
And feeds the immortal ardor in his breast. 

And here the common practice of the schools 
By known experience justifies my rules, 
The youth* in social studies to engage ; 
For then the rivals bum with generous rage. 
Each soul the stings of emulation raise. 
And every Uttle bosom beats for praise. 

Pfarebigenam Alcides animo indignante peremil, 
Vocali invisam feiiens testudine frontem, 
Oebueiat ssevos factimi monuisse magistroi. 
Vos tamen. o joasi juvenes, parete regentum 
Imperiis, ultroque aniraos auramittite vestro*. 

Siquem igitur clari fonnandi gloria vatis 
Dlgna manet, verbis puenim compellat amicis, 
Sxpe rog&ns, laudlsque animain pertentat amore. 
Quandoquidem hunc iinis postquam semel ossibus ignem 
Implicuit, labor jnde levia; sese excitat ardens 
Sponte sua, duiosque volens feet ille labores, 
Et tacito vivens crescit sub peetore flamma. 

Quid memorem? aocimn nam mos :equalibus annis 
Jungere, cui paribus studiis contendal alumnus, 
i^molB cum virtus stimulis agitarit honestis: 
Praesertim si victoti sua pKemia rector 

D,o, by Google 


But gifts proposed will ui^e them best to rise ; 
Fired at the glorious prospect of a prize, 
With noble jealousy the blooming bard 
Reads, labors, glows, and strains for the reward. 
Fears lest his happy rival win the race. 
And raise a triumph on his own disgrace. 

But when once seasoned tO' the rage divine. 
He loves and courts the raptures of the Nine, 
The sense of glory, and the love of fame, 
Serve but as second motives to the flame ; 
The thrilling pleasure all the bard subdues. 
Locked in the strict embraces of the Muse. 
See ! when harsh parents force the youth to quit. 
For meaner arts, the dear delights of wit. 
If e'er the wonted warmth his thoughts inspire. 
And with past pleasures set his mind on fire. 
How from his soul he longs, but longs in vain. 
To haunt the groves and purling streams again ; 
No stem commands of parents can control. 
No force can check the sallies of his soul. 

Pollicitus, celeretnve canem, pictamve pliaretram. 
Continue videas studio gestice legendi 
Ardenteni, ac sera sub node urgere laborem, 
Dnm timet alterius capiti spectare caronam. 

Ast ubi sponte sua studia Yaec asauerit amare, 
Jam non laudii amor, non ilium gloria tanlum 
SoUicitat, sed mira opeium dulcedine captus 
Musarum nequit avelli complexLbuS arctis. 
Nonne vides, duii natos ubi SEepe parentes 
Dulcibus smorunt studiis, et discere avaras 
Jusserunt artes, mentem siquando libido 
Nota subit, solitaque animum dulcedine movit, 
Ut Iseti rurswn irriguos accedere fonles 
Ardescant studiis, et nota revisere Tempe? 
Exultant animis cupidi, pugnantque parentum 
Imperiis; nequit ardentes vis ulla morari. 

D,o, by Google 


So bums the courser seasoned to the rein. 

That spies his females on a dbtant plain, 

And longs to act his pleasures o'er again ; 

Fired with remembrance of his joys, he bounds. 

He foams, and strives to reach the well-known grounds ; 

The goring spurs his furious flames improve. 

And rouse within him all the rage of love ; 

Plied with the scourge he still neglects his haste, 

And moves reluctant when he moves at last. 

Reverts his eye, regrets the distant mare, 

And neighs impatient for the dappled fair. 

How oft the youth would long to change his fate, 

Who, high advanced to all the pomp of state, 

With grief his gaudy load of grandeur views. 

Lost at too high a distance from the Muse ! 

How oft he sighs by warbling streams to rove, 

And quit the palace for the shady grove ; 

How oft in Tibur's cold retreats to He, 

And gladly stoop to cheerful poverty, 

Beneath the rigor of the wintry sky ! 

But yet how many curse their fruitless toil. 
Sic assuetus equus jam duris ora lupatis, 
Forte procul notia si armenta aspexit in arvis. 
Hue veterura ferri cupit haud oblitus amorum, 30D 

Atque hie atque illic hxret, (rzenisque lepugnat, 
Quove magis stimulis instas, hoc acrius ille 
Perfuril; it tandem multo vix verbere victus 
Cceptum iter; ipsa tamen respectana crebra tnoratur 
Pascua, et hinnitu late loca eomplet aeuto. SOS 

Ah ! quoties aliquis saCTos reminiscitur 3?ger 
Pontes incassum, et lucos susptiat amatos 
Dulcibus ereptus Musis piier, attia ut alta 
Ineoletet tegum rebus priefectus agendis ! 

Tybure qaain mailet, gelido aut sub Tusculo iniquam 310 

Fauperiemque pati, et ventos prefeice nivalesi 

Contra autem vannm roultl effudere laborem, 

D,o, by Google 


Who tarn and caltipate a barren sent ! 

This, ere too late, the master may divine 

By a sure omen and a certain agn ; 

The hopefiil youth, detennined by bis choice. 

Works without precept, and prevents advice. 

Consults his teacher, plies his task with joy. 

And a qnick sense of glory (ires the boy. 

He cballenges the crowd ; the conquest o'er. 

He struts away the victor of an hour. 

Then, vanquished in his turn, o'erwhelmed with care. 

He weeps, be pines, he sickens with despair ; 

Nor looks his little rivals in the face. 

But flies for shelter to some lonely place. 

To moum his shame, and cover his disgrace. 

His master's frowns impatient to sustain. 

Straight he returns, and wins the day again. 

This is the boy his better fates design 

To rise the future darling of the Nine; 

For him the Muses weave the sacred crown. 

And bright Apollo claims him for his own. 

Not the least hope the unactive youth can raise, 

Quos fruslra excolaisse solum male pinguis aienx 
PiEnituit, ventisque viam tentasse negatis. 
Quod ne cui sera contingat forte docenti, 
Conlinuo poterit certis pnesciscere sign is. 
Namque poer nullia rectoruin hortatibua ipse 
Sponle sua exercetur, amatque, ragatque docentes 
Primus, inaidescitque ingenti laudis amore. 
Provocat hinc locios pulchra ai certamina primas, 
Exultatque animo victor; supetatos amaria 
Mordetut curia, latebrasqne, ct sola requirit 
Infelix Iocd; ad lequaUs pudet ire, gravesque 
Vultus lerre nequit can rectoris inultus. 
Nee lachrymis penitus caiuenint ora decoris. 
Ilic Tnihi se Divis, fatisque volenlibus atTert, 
Huic MusiE indulgent omnes, hunc poscit Apollo. 

D,o, by Google 

«3] BOOK I. 

Dead to the prospect and the sense of praise ; 
Who your just rules with dull attention hears. 
Nor lends his understanding, but his ears ; 
Resolved his parts in indolence to keep, 
He lulls his drowsy faculties asleep ; 
The wretch your best endeavors will betray. 
And the superfluous care is thrown away. 

I fear for him who ripens ere his prime ; 
For all productions there's a proper time. 
Oh, may no apples in the spring appear. 
Outgrow the seasons, and prevent the year. 
Nor mellow yet, till autumn stains the vine, 
And the full presses foam with floods of wine ! 
Tom from the parent tree too soon, they lie 
Trod down by every swain who passes by. 

Nor should the youth too strictly be confined ; 
Tis sometimes proper to unbend his mind. 
When tired with study, let him seek the plains. 
And mark the homely humors of the swains ; 
Or, pleased the toils to spread, or horns to wind. 

At nulUm prorsus lib! spent frustia eicitet ille. 
Quern non ulla movet pcedulcia gloria fam^, 
Et pnccepta negat cluras dimittete in aures 
Immemor audit!, cui turpis inertia mentem 
Dejicit, atque hebetes totpent in corpoce aensus, 
Huic curani moneo ne quisquam impeadat inanem. 

Nee placet ante annos vates puer: omnia justo 
Tempore proveniant : ah I ne mihi olentia poma 
Miteacant priiu, autumnus bicoloribiu uvis 
Quam redeat, spuinetque cadis vindemia plenjs. 
Ante diem nam lapsa cadent, lamosque relinquent 
Maternos; calcabit humi projecta viator. 

Nee ludos puero abnuimus; subducere mentem 
Interdum studiis liceat: defessus amifna 
Rura petal, sxpe et mores observet agrestum; 
El venator agat de verticc Tybuitino 

D,o, by Google 


Hunt the fleet mountain-goat or forest-hind. 
Meantime the youth, impatient that the day 
Should pass in pleasures unimproved away. 
Steals from the shouting crowd, and quits the plains, 
To sing the sylvan gods in rural strains, 
Or calls the Muses to Albunea's shades, 
Courts and enjoys the visionary maids. 
So labored fields, with crops alternate blest, 
By turns lie fallow and indulge their rest ; 
The sw£un contented bids the hungry soil 
Enjoy a sweet vicissitude from toil. 
Till earth renews her genial powers to bear, 
And pays his prudence with a bounteous year. 
On a strict view your solid judgment frame, 
Nor think that genius is in all the same. 
How oft the youth, who wants the sacred fire. 
Fondly mistakes for genius his desire. 
Courts the coy Muses, though rejected still. 
Nor Nature seconds his misguided will ! 
He strives, he toils with unavailing care, 

Veloces capreas, aat tendat retia cervis. 
Non ille interea penitus patietur inanem 
Ire diem; comitum ccetu se subtraheC ultro 
Interdum, et sola secum meditabitur umbia 
Agrestem Faunis laudem, Musasque sub alta 
Conaulet Albunea vitreas Anienis ad undas. 
Nempe etiam alterois lequiescece f<:etibus arva 
Permittunt sponte agcicolx, et cessaie novales: 
Interea vires tellus inarata resiunil, 
Quique 3ubil laigis raspondet fcugibus annus. 

Venim non eadem tamen omnibus esse memento 
Ingenia. Inventus ssepe est, cui earmina cuise, 
Cui placeant Muss, cui non sit la^va voluntas; 
Nilitur ille tamen frustra, et contend it inani 
Delnsus studio, vetilisque accingilui ausis ; 

D,o, by Google 

Nor Heaven relents, nor Phcebus hears his prayer. 
He with success, perhaps, maj plead a cause. 
Shine, at the bar, and flourish by the laws ; 
Perhaps discover Nature's secret springs. 
And bring to light the originals of things. 
But sometimes precept will such force impart. 
That Nature bends beneath the power of art. 

Besides, 'tis no light province to remove 
From the rash boy the fiery pangs of love, 
Till, ripe in years, and more confirmed in age, 
He teams to bear the flames of Cupid's rage. 
Oft hidden fires on all his vitals prey. 
Devour the youth, and melt his soul away 
By slow degrees, blot out his golden dreams. 
The tuneful poets and Castalian streams. 
Struck with a secret wound, he weeps and sighs ; 
In every thought the darling phantoms rise ; 
The fancied charmer swims before his sight. 
His theme all day, his vision all the night ; 
The wandering object takes up all his care, 

Numina keva obslant, precibusque vocatus Apollo. 
Orabit melius causas Tors iUe, animoque 
Naluram, et csecos rerum sccutabitut ortua. 
Ssepe tamen cultusqoe freqnens, et cura docentiun 
Impeiat ingeniis, natuiaque flecCitui arte. 

Nee labor ille quidem rectoribus uUimas acres 
Incauto juveni stimulos avertere amoria, 
Donee creEcentem doceal maturior EeCas 
Fetre jugum, alque faces, ssevique Cupidinis iraa. 
Siepe etenim lectos immilis in ossibus ignes 
Versat amor, mollesque est jntus cura medullas. 
Nee miserum patitur vatum meminisse, nee undx 
Caslaliae : tantuni suspitat vulnere cfeco. 
Ante oculos siroulacbra volant noctesque diesque 
Nunlia virginei vultus, quern perditus ardet. 
Nee potis est alio lixam traducere mentem 

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Nor can be quit the imaginary fair. 
Meantime his sire, unconscious of his pain. 
Applies the tempered medicines in vain ; 
The plague, so deeply rooted in his heart. 
Mocks every slight attempt of Psean's art ; 
The flames of Cupid all his breast iospire, 
And in the lover's quench the poet's fire. 

When in his riper years, without control. 
The Nine have took possession of his soul ; 
When, sacred to their god, the crown he wears. 
To other authors let him bend his cares. 
Consult their styles, examine every part. 
And a new tincture take from every art. 
First study Tully's language and his sense. 
And range that boundless field of eloquence ; 
Tully, Rome's other glory, still affords 
The best expressions and the richest words ; 
As high o'er all in eloquence he stood. 
As Rome o'er all the nations she subdued. 
Let him read men and manners, and explore 

Sauciui: ignari frustra miscere parentM 
Paeonios »ucco«, medicasque Machaonis artes 
Coniulere ; inCerea penitus cdot ille relinquit 
Pierius; torquent alii cor molle calorcs. 

Cum veto jam pubeKens merle altius hausil 
Miuarum dulcem sanctique Heliconis amorem, 
Et KM Vliceho addixit, propriumque sacravil, 
Houd lanlum esploret vatum monumenta. sed idem 
Con«u1at, alque alios autores discat, ul acti 
Nulla sit ingenio quam non libaveiil artem. 
Proderil in primis linguam Ciceronis ad unguem 
Flngere, et eloquii pet campos ite patentes. 
Ille, decus I^tii, magna: lux alteta Romse, 
Ore effundit opes fandi ceitissimus autor : 
Tanlum omnes supetans prxclata? munere linguse, 
Quantum lit ante alias Rom ana potentia gentes. 

D,o, by Google 

*14] BOOK I. 

The site and distances from shore to shore ; 

Then let him travel, or to maps repair. 

And see imagined cities rising there; 

Range with his eyes the Earth's fictitious ball, 

And pass o'er figured worlds that grace the wall. 

Some in the bloody shock of aims appear, 

To paint the native horrors of the war ; 

Through charging hosts they rush before they write, 

And plunge in aJI the tuniult of the fight. 

But since our lives, contracted in their date 

By scanty bounds, and circumscribed by fate, 

Can never launch through all the depths of arts. 

Ye youths, touch only the material parts ; 

There stop your labor, there your search control. 

And draw from thence a notion of the whole. 

From distant climes when the rich merchants come. 

To bring the wealth of foreign regions home. 

Content the fiiendly harbors to explore, 

They only touch upon the winding shore. 

Nor with vain labor wander up and down 

To view the land, and visit every town ; 

Piofuit et varioB mores haminumque, locorumque 
Explorasae situs; moltas terraque maiique 
Aut vidisse ipsuin oibes, aut narraatibus ilUs 
Ex aliis novisse, et pkliun in paciete mundum. 
Quid refecam qui, ut sxva queant cequaie caneado 
Pnelia, aon horrent ceftamioa Martis adire, 
Per mediasque acies vadunt, et bella lacessunt? 
At, quii dura vetant longum qos fata morari 
In cunclis, revocatque uiguad teTmlnus svi, 
Vos aat erit, pucri, tantum omnes isse per aites, 
Quarum aumma sequi saltern fastigia oporlet. 
Nee refeit rate qui varias legit Eequotis oias, 
Mercis ut in patriom referat so dives opinue. 
Si non cuncta ocolis tustiavecit oppida pasum. 

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That would but call them from their former road, 
To spend as age in banishment abroad ; 
Too late returning from the dangerous main, 
To see their countries and their friends again. 

Still be the sacred poets your delight, 
Read them by day, consult them in the night ; 
From those clear fountains all your raptures bring. 
And draw forever from the Muses' spring. 
But let your subject in your bosom roll. 
Claim every thought, and draw In all the soul ; 
That constant object to your mind display, 
Your toil all night, your labor all the day. 

I need not all the rules of verse disclose. 
Nor how their various measures to dispose ; 
The tutor here with ease his charge may guide 
To join the parts and numbers, or divide. 
Now let him words to stated laws submit, 
Or yoke to measures, or reduce to feet ; 
Now let him sofdy to himself rehearse 
His first attempts and rudiments of verse ; 

Et circumfusis tongum terat otia tenis; 
Sat fuerit portus, extremaque littora tantum 
Ejcplotasse : secua toto vagus exulet aevo, 
El serus natos dulces, paCriamque reviset. 

Nulla dies tamen interea tibi, nulla abeal nox, 
Quin aliquid vatum sacioruin e fontibus almis 
Hausecis, ac dulcem labris admoveris amnem. 
Sed libi prxserlim piincepi tunc hfeieaC ilia 
Cura animo, noctem alque diem te te encitet una, 
Omnem quam propter libuit pecfctre laborem. 

Non hie te quibus aut pedibus spatiisve monebo 
Tendantui ducti versus: labor iste regentum 
Po9tulaI baud multum cura:, qui sa^pe morando 

In partes membris, et tempora certa docebunt. 
Continuo, edico, jam tunc animosas aluniDui. 

D,o, by Google 

4»i ■«:•:?£ L 

Fix on tfaosc ndi cxfm^oas hs t^aid 

To nse made sacral br ki^k aaaeat tnnL 

Tossed bf a difat a * gaa oi bopes and fean. 

He be^ of Hcnoi an h:3idicd ncs and cats. 

Now here, now diere, cor Natnre be paisoes. 

And takes one image in a dKKEand views. 

He waits the happy moment that a&>Tds 

The noblest tbot^Us and most expressive wuds ; 

He tmKiks no doll delay, admits no lest ; 

A dde of passcn straggles in his breast ; 

Round his dark son! no dear ideas play. 

The most familiar obfeds ^ide away. 

All fixed in thought, asttniisbed he appeals. 

His soul ezamioes and consults his cars 

And racks his faitlili'"gi memory, to find 

Some traces &intly sketched upon his mind. 

There he unlocks the glorious m^azine, 

And opens every Acuity witblo. 

Brings out with pride their intellectual spoils. 

And with the noble treasure crowns his toils ; 

In muDerum incipiat sub leges cf^ece verba : 
Jam tunc summissa meditetur carmina voce, 
Seimanuin ineinoT, antiquis quos vatibuE hausit. 
Tiun votis sibi centum anres, tuni Imnina centum 
Exoptat dubius reniio, meluensque pericli. 
Dividit hue iUuc animum, cunctamque perercat 
Naturam lerum, veisatque per omnia mentem; 
Quis rebus deitet modus, aul quae mi>llia fandi 
Tempora : vertuntui species in pectocc mille. 
Nee moia, nee requies; dubio sententia sargit 
Multa animo, variatque; omnes conveilitui ancepi 
In fflcies, nescitque eCiam noHssima, et hcecet 
Attonitus; nunc multa animum, nunc consulit aurei. 
Secum mente agitans siqua olim audita recuricnt 
Sponle sua; et memOTem mentem excital, alque repwtM 
TbeBaum depromit opes, l^etusque labori* 

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Aod oft mere chance shall images display, 

That strike his mind engaged a different way. 

Still he persists, regrets no toil nor pain. 

And still the task he tried before in vain 

Plies with unwearied diligence again. 

For oft unmanageable thoughts appear. 

That mock his labor and delude his care ; 

The impatient bard, with all his nerves applied. 

Tries all the avenues on every side. 

Resolved ahd bent the precipice to gain. 

Though yet he labors at the rock in vain. 

By his own strength and Heaven with conquest graced. 

He wins the important victory at last ; 

Stretched by his hands the vanquished monster lies, 

And the proud triumph lifts him to the skies. 

But when even chance and all his efforts fail. 

Nor toils, nor vigilance, nor cares prevail, 

His past attempts in vain the boy renews. 

And waits the softer seasons of the Muse ; 

He quits his work, throws by his fond desires, 

Ipse 9ui parto fruitur: mulla ecce ! repente 

Fors inopina aperiE cunctanti, aliudque putanti. 

Jamque hxc, jamque ilia attentat, texitque letexitque, 

Et variis indefeaaua conatibus inalat. * 

Ssepe etetiim oecurtunt hauii dictu qiollia, ubi haeret 

Cura.diu, multoque exercila corda labotc. 

Nunc hos, nunc illos aditus vestigal, ct omnia 

AUenlans acopulo longum luclatui iniquo, 

Dum se qua ostendat facilis via: denique multa 4 

Aul vi, aut (xeli et furluno; munere victor 

Exoltat, domitoque animis it ad xthera monstro. 

Ast ubi nulla viam nee vis, nee itextra aperil fors. 

Nee prodest vites fesaai renovare, nee aptum 

Nunc hie, nunc illie eaptare ad carmina tempus, 4 

Invitus eiira atisistit, tristisque lelinquit 

Gxpta infecta, pedcm cefercus : ecu forte viator 

D,o, by Google 

And from his task reluctantly retires. 

Thus o'er the fields the swain pursues hia road, 

Till stopped at length by some impervious flood, 

That from a mountain's brow, o'erchaiged with rains. 

Bursts in a thundering tide, and foams along the plains ; 

With horror chilled he traverses the shore. 

Sees the waves rise, and hears the torrent loar ; 

Then grieved returns, or waits with vain delay 

Till the tumultuous deluge rolls away. 

But in no Iliad let the youth engage , 
His tender -years and unexperienced age ; 
Let him by just degrees and steps proceed. 
Sing with the swains, and tune the tender reed. 
He with success an humbler theme may ply. 
And, Virgil-like, immortalize a fly ; 
Or sing the mice, their battles and attacks. 
Against the croaking natives of the lakes ; 
Or with what art her toils the spider sets. 
And spins her filmy entrails into nets. 

And here embrace, ye teachers, this advice : 
Not to be too inquisitively nice. 

Si qois tendat iter cimpis, cui se amnis.abundans 

Ecce! vce in medio objiciat, apumisque fragosQS 

Post imbrera volvens mootis de veilice flucCus. 41 

Horrescit, ripaque moratus obambulat anccpa: 

Tum demum metuens retto redit Ecger, ilerque 

Aut alia tenet, aut, cedant dum fluinina, diflerl. 

Sed neque inexpertus rerum jajn (exeie longaa 
Audeal Iliadaa: paulatim asaueacat, el ante 41 

Incipiat graciles pastorura insCare cicuCas. 
Jam poterit culicis numeria feta diccre fata; 
Aut quanta ediderit cectamine fulmineus mus 
Fnnera in aigutas et amantes humida turmasi 
Ordirive doloa, et retia tenuis aranei. 41 

CoQsiliis cliam hie nostiis, vobisque, docentes. 

Dpi .?d by Google 


But, till the soul enlarged in strength appears, ' 
Indulge the boy, and spare his tender years ; 
Till, to ripe judgment and experience brought, 
Himself discerns and blushes at a fault. 
For if the critic's eyes too strictly pierce, 
To point each blemish out in every verse. 
Void of all hope the stripling may depart, 
And tun) his studies to another art. 
But if, resolved his darling faults to see, 
A youth of genius should apply to me. 
And court my elder judgment to perase 
The imperfect labors of his infant Muse, 
I should not scruple, with a candid eye, 
To read and praise his poem to the sky. 
With seeming rapture on each line to pause. 
And dwell on each expression with applause. 
But when my praises had inflamed his mind. 
If some lame verse Umped slowly up behind, 
One, that himself, unconscious, had not found, 
By numbers charmed and led away by sound ; 

Est monitis opus : ingeniis nam pircere multa 
Fas teneris, donee paulatim attoUere sese 
Incipiant animi, videantque in carmine labem 
Per se ipsi, et tacito rubeant ultro ora pudore. 
Nam macular « forte omnea per carmina monslret 
Qu^tsitor serus, adjiciant apem protinns omnem, 
Atrjue alias animo potiua vertantur ad attes. 
Nostrum igitut si forte adeat puer indole limen 
Egcegia, ut consulta petat, parere pacatus, 
Quique velit sese arbitrio supponete nostto, 
Excipiam placidusr nee me juvenile pigebit 
Ad cceliim vultu simulato eiCotlere carmen 
Laudibos, et stimulos acres sub pectore figam, 
Post tamen, ut multa spe mentem arrexcril ardens. 
Si qui9 forte inter, veiutt de vulnere claudus. 
Tardus eat versus, quem non videt inscius ipse 

D,o, by Google 

497] BOOK I. 

I should not fear to minister a prop. 
And give hira stronger feet to keep it up, 
Teach it to run along more firm and sure ; 
Nor would I show the wound before the cure, 
~ For what remains : the poet I enjoin 
To form no glorious scheme, no great design, 
TiJl, free from business, he retires alone, 
And flies the giddy tumult of the town. 
Seeks rural pleasures and enjoys the glades. 
And courts the thoughtful silence of the shades 
Where the fair Dryads haunt their native woods, 
With all the orders of the sylvan gods. 
Here in their soft retreats the poets lie. 
Serene, and blest with cheerful poverty ; 
No guilty schemes of wealth their souls molest. 
No cares, no prospects, discompose their rest, 
No scenes of grandeur glitter in their view ; 
Here they the joys of innocence pursue. 
And taste the pleasures of the happy few. 
From a rock's entrails the barbarian sprung, 

Deliisusque sonis leoecas fallacibns aures, 
Haud medicaa affere manus, Eegroque mederi 
Addubitem, el semper meliora ostend^ie pergam. 

Quod superest, etiam moneo, creberque monebo, 
Ne quisquam nist curarum, liberque laboTum 
InchoeC egregium quicquam; verum procul urbia 
Attonitx fugia,t atiepitus, et acnoena silentis 
Accedat loca curis, ubi Dcj'adesque puelli?, 
Panesque, Faunique, et mantivagi Sylvani. 
Hie beti haui^ magnis opibus, non divite cultu 
Vitam agitant vales: procul esl sceleralus habendi 
Hinc amor, insane spes longe, alque impia voU, 
Et nunquam dine subeunt ea limina cuRe: 
Dulcis et alma quies, ac paucis nota voluptas. 

At nimium trax ille, (eiisque e cautibus ortiw. 

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Who dares to violate the sacred throng 

By deeds or words. The wretch, by fury driven, 

Assaults the darling colony of Heaven ! 

Some have looked down, we know, with scornful eyes 

On the bright Muse who taught them how to rise, 

And paid, when raised to grandeur, no regard 

From that high station to the sacred bard. 

Uninjured, mortals, let the poets lie. 

Or dread the impending vengeance of the sky ; 

The gods still listened to their constant prayer. 

And made the poets their peculiar care. 

They, with contempt, on fortune's gift look down. 

And laugh at kii^ who wear an envied crown. 

Raised and transported by their soaring mind, 

From their proud eminence they view mankind 

Lost in a cloud ; they see them toil below. 

All busy to promote their common woe. 

Of guilt unconscious, with a steady soul. 

They see the lightnings flash, and hear the thunders roll ; 

When, girt with terrors, Heaven's almighty sire 

Lanches his triple bolts and forky fire. 

When o'er high towers the red destroyer plays. 

Qui sanctos, genus innocuuni, populumque Deorum, 

Aut armis audet vales, aul liedere dictis. 

Villi ego, qui ad aiunmos Musarura munere honores BOO 

Evccti, mox ingtatos cnntemnere Musas, 

Nee vales saltern alloquio dignacier ipsos. 

Parcite, mortales, aacros vexare poelas : 

Ullores sperate Deos, sub numine quorum 

Semper vila fuit vatum defensa piorum. BOG 

llli omnes sibi fortunas poBuere volentes 

Sub pedibus, regumque et opes, et sceptra superba 

Ingenti vincunt animo, ac moTtalia ri<lenl. 

Non illis usquam scelecum mens cunscia Ciecos 

Horrescit cce\i crepitus, igne 

D,o, by Google 

-ex] BOOK I. ; 

And strikes the mountains with the pointed blaze, 
Safe in tlieir innocence, like gods, they rise, 
And lift their souls serenely to the skies. 

Ry, ye profane ! the sacred Nine were given 
To bless these lower worlds by bounteous Heaven. 
Of old Prometheus from the realms above 
Brought down these daughters of almighty Jove, 
When to his native earth the robber came. 
Charged with the plunder of ethereal flame ; 
As due compassion touched his generous mind. 
To see the savage state of human kind, 
When, led to range at large the bright abodes, 
And share the ambrosial banquets of the gods. 
In many a whirl he saw Olympus driven, 
And heard the eternal harmony of Heaven. 
Turned round and round, the concert charmed his ears 
With all the music of the dancing spheres ; 
The sacred Nine his wondering eyes behold. 
As each her orb in just divisions rolled. 
The thief beholds them with ambitious eyes, 
And, bent on fraud, he meditates the prize ; 

Cam patet omnipotens pRemptas fulmine (uice* 
IngeminanB quatit, ac montes diverberat altos. 
Securi tenonim hilarM ad sideni niente» 
Anexere, Deiunqae agitant »ine crimine viUm. 

Elona Deum Musae: Tulgus procul este prafanum. B 

Has magni natas Jovii olim duxit ab astris 
Callidus in terrat inMgiii fraude Prometheiu, 
Cum liquidoi etiam mortal ibiu attulit ignes, 
Quippe nide» bominum nicnte», et pectoia dura 
Ipse sagax animo miieratus, nbi astra per am'ea K 

Ire datum, ac Superum ketis accumbere mepsis, 
Miratns soaUoin circumvolventto Olynipi 
Ingentem, magnique argutos setheris orbei, 
Quos, sua quemque, cient vatio diicrimine Musx; 
CoDtinuo utilius rains est mortalibiu addi K 

D,o, by Google 


A prize — the noblest gift he could bestow. 

Next to the fire, od human race below. • 

At length the Immortals reconciled resigned 

The fair celestial sisters to mankind, 

Though, bound to Caucasus with solid chains, 

The aspiring robber groaned in endless pains ; 

By which deterred, for ages lay supine 

The race of mortals, nor invoked the Nine, 

Till Heaven in verse showed man his future state. 

And opened every distant scene of fate. 

First, the great father of the gods above 

Sung in Dodona and the Libyan grove ; 

Next, to the inquiring nations Themis gave 

Her sacred answers from the Phocian cave ; 

Then Phcebus warned them from the Delphic dome 

Of future time and ages yet to come ; 

And reverend Faunus uttered truths divine 

To the first founders of the Latian line. 

Next the great race of hallowed prophets came, 

With them the Sibyls of immortal fame. 

Post ignem nil posse, animumque ad callida movit 
Furta vigil. Dii mox crelestia dona volenles 
ConcMSere, doli licet audentissimus ipse 
Autor Caucaseo Sievas del vertice poenas. 
Quo terrore, nisi nmlto post tempore, inerles 
Non ausi dias homines accersere Musas: 
Sed Ventura prim pandebant carmine soli 
Ccelicoix, dubiigque dabant oracula lelius. 
Ipse pater Divum Dodome carmina primus 
Et Libycis cecinil lucis, mox Phocidis antro 
Insopuit Themis alms, suos quoque pulcher Apollo 
Responsis monuit Delphos, nee defuit olim 
Antiquis Faunus caneret qui fata Latinis. 
Turo Solymum priaci vates, turn sacra Sibylloe 
Nomina divinss cceli in penetralia mentes 

D,o, by Google 

«IB] ' BOOK I. 

lospired with all the god ; who, rapt on high. 
With more than mortal rage unbounded fly. 
And range the dark recesses of the sky. 
Next, at their feasts, the people sung their lays 
(The same their prophets sung in former days), 
Their theme a hero and his deathless praise. 

What has to man of nobler worth been given 
Than this the best and greatest boon of Heaven? 
Whatever power the glorious gift bestowed. 
We trace the certain footsteps of a god. 
By thee inspired, the daring poet flies. 
His soul mounts up, and towers above the skies ; 
Thou art the source of pleasure, and we see 
No joy, no transport, when debarred of thee. 
Thy tuneful deity the feathered throng 
Confess in all the measures of their song ; 
Thy great commands the savages obey. 
And every silent native of the sea ; 
Led by thy voice the starting rocks advance, 
And listening forests mingle in the dance. 
On thy sweet notes the damned rejoice to dwell. 
Thy strains suspended all the din of Hell ; 

Arripuece, Deumque animis hauseie furentes. 
Nee mora, quse primam Fauni vatesque canebani 
Carmina, moctalcB passim didicere per ucbes. 
Post epulas laudes heroum, et facta canentes. 
Quid mirandum homini cixlo divinitus seque 
Conceisum! morCale genus tua numina sentit, 
Quisquis es ills, Deus certe '■ qui pectora vatum 
Incolis, afflaUsque rapis super aetbera mentes. 
Te sine nil nobis Ixtum, nee amabile quicquam, 
IpSiE eti»n volucres vario tua numina cantu 
Testantor: pecudesque (erx, mutxque natanles 
Ad tua jussa cite properant; tua munera saxa 
Duca movent, sylvasque traiiunt bine inde sequentefl. 

D,o, by Google 


Lulled by the sound, the furies raged no more, 

And Hell's infernal porter ceased to roar. 

Thy powers exalt us to the realms above. 

To feast with gods, and sit the guests of Jove ! 

Thy presence softens anguish, woe, and strife. 

And reconciles us to the load of life. 

Hail, thou bright comfort of these low abodes. 

Thou joy of men and darling of the gods ! 

As priest and poet, in these humble lays 

I boldly labor to resound thy praise ; 

To hang thy shrines this gift I bring along. 

And to thy altars guide the tender throng. 

Te quoque senserunl olim impia Tartars, ct umbrae 

Pallentea stupuere : minas tibi Janitur Oici 

Oblitus, sa^as posuete et Erinnyes iras. 

Tu Jovis ambrosiis das noa accumbete mensis: 

Tu nos Diis zequas superis : tu blanda laborum 

SufBcis et dune pixsens solatia vitEe. 

Salve hominum duici* requies, Divumque voluptaa! 

Ipse tux egregios audax nunc laudis honores 

Ingredior vates idem, Supenimque sacerdos, 

Saciaque dona fero teneria comitatus alumnis. 

D,o, by Google 

BOOK n. 

POCEED, TC Nine, docended from above. 
Ve tDDcfbl dai^teis a( almi^htv Jm-e : 
To teach the fumic age I hastoi on. 
And opra evor somce of Heficoo ; 
VooT ptricst and ban! widi lagc divine in^re. 
While to yoor shrine I lead the blooniing choir. 
Hatd was the way, and dnbioiis, which we trod ; 
Now show, ye goddesses, a sorer road. 
Point out those paths, which yoa can find alone. 
To aB the worid bat to jrottrselves unknown. 
Lo ! all the Hesperian youths with me implore 
Your softer influence and propitious power. 
Who, ranged beneath my banneis, boldly tread 
Those ardooos tracks to reach your mountain's head. 
^few rules 'tis now my province to impart, 
^irst to invent, and then dispose with art, — 
Each a laborious task ; but they who share 

Inspirate aniniiim; tempU ipse in vesUs sacerdos 

Sacra ferens, jnvenes florenles moUibus annis 

Duco audens durum per iter: vos, mollia, Divx, 

Si qua lalent, vohis tantum divortia nota, 

Pr^esentes monstrate, novosque oatendite calles, 

Quos teneam. Vos enl omnis, vos ItaU puhes, 

Qux juga sub nostris nunc tendil ad aritua signis, 

Supplicibus poscit votis, facilesque piecatur. 

Nam miht nunc reperire apta, atque lepetta docenilutn 

Digerere, atque suo quseque ordine rite locare. 

Durus alerquf labor: sed quos Deus aspicit ccquui. 

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Heaven's kinder bounty and peculiar care, 
A glorious train of images may find. 
Preventing hope and crowding on the mind. 
The other task, to settle every part. 
Depends on judgment and the powers of art ; 
From whence in chief the poet hopes to raise 
His future glory and immortal praise. 

This as a rule the noblest bards esteem. 
To touch at first in general on the theme. 
To hint at all the subject in a line. 
And draw in miniature the whole design. 
Nor in themselves confide, but next implore 
The timely aid of some celestial power ; 
To guide your labors and point out your road, 
Choose, as you please, your tutelary god ; 
But still invoke some guardian deity, 
Some power, to look auspicious from the sky ; 
To nothing great should mortais bend their care, 
Till Jove be solemnly addressed in prayer. 
Tis not enough to call for aid. divine. 
And court but once the favor of the Nine ; 
When objects rise that mock your toil and pain, 

Sispe suis subito invenient accommod^ votis. 

Unde Solent laudem in primis optare poeta;. 

Vestibulum ante ipsum, piimoque in limine scmpei 
Pindentes leviter lecum faatigia Eumma 
Libant, et parcis attingunt omnia dtclis. 
Qua: canere statuere : simul ccelestia IMvum 
Auxilia implorant, propriis nil viribus ausi. 
Quos ores autem noD magni deaique refert, 
Dum memor auspiciis cujusquam cuncta Deotum 
Aggiediere: Jovis neque enim nisi rite vocato 
Nunline fas quicquam oidiri mortalibus altum. 
Nee sat opem imploiace semel, Musasque ciere. 

D,o, by Google 

a] BOOK II. 

Above the labor and the reach of man, 
'ITien you may supplicate the blest abodes, 
And ask the friendly succor of the gods. 
Shock not your reader, nor begin too fierce, 
Nor swell and bluster in a pomp of verse ; 
At first all needless ornament remove. 
To shun his prejudice and win his love ; 
At first you find most favor and success 
In plain expression and a modest dress ; 
For if too arrogant you vaunt your might, 
You fall with greater scandal in the fight. 
When on the nicest point your fortune stands. 
And all your courage, all your strength demands. 
With gradual flights surprise us as we read. 
And let more glorious images succeed. 
To wake our souls, to kindle our desire 
Still to read on, and fan the rising fire. 
But ne'er the subject of your work proclaim 
In its own colors and its genuine name ; 
Let it by distant tokens be conveyed, 

Sed quoties, veluti scopuli, durisaima dictu 
Objicient lese tibi, non cupcranda labore 
Mortali, Divos loties Drare licebit. 
Incipiens odinin fugito, facilesque legentum 
Nil liunidus demulce animos, nee grandia jam turn 
Convenit aut nimium cuUum ostentantia fari; 
Omnia led nudis pcope erit fas piomere verbis: 
Ne, si magna sones, cum nondum ait prasHa venlum, 
Deitcias medio inisus ceitamine, cum res 
Fostulat ingentes animoB, viiesque valentes. 
Principiit potius semper majoia sequantur: 
Protinus iUectas succende cupidine mentes, 
Et studium lectorum animis innecte legendi. 
Jam vero cum rem propones, nomine nunquam 
Prodere conveniet manifesto : semper opertis 

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And wrapped in other words, and covered in their shade. 

At last the subject from the friendly shroud 

Bursts out, and shines the brighter from the cloud ; 

Then the dissolving darkness breaks away. 

And every object glares in open day. 

Thus great Ulysses' toils were I to choose 

For the main theme that should employ my Muse, 

By his long labors of immortal fame 

Should shine my hero, but conceal his name ; 

As one who, lost at sea, had nations seen, 

And marked their towns, their manners, and their men, 

Since Troy was leveled to the dust by Greece — 

Till a few lines epitomised the piece. 

But study now what order to maintain, 
To link the work in one continued chain, 
That, when the Muse displays her artful scheme 
And at the proper time unfolds the theme. 
Each part may find its own determined place, 
Laid out with method and disposed with grace ; 
That to the destined scope the piece may tend, 

Indiciis, longe et verborum aiabage petita 

Significant, umbraque obducuni: inde tamen, ceu 

Sublustri e nebula, reruin tialucet imago 

Clarius, et certis datur omnia cetnete signis. 46 

Hinc si dura mihi passus dicendus Ulysses, 

Non illuni veio memorabo nomine, sed qui 

Et mores bominum multoium vidit et uibes 

Naufragus, eversse post sxva incendia Trojse. 

Addam alia, angustis complectens omnia dictis. 60 

Etgo age quie vales servandi cura fatigel 
Ordinis inlentos operi, cum carmine apetto 
Rem tempus narrare, loco ut disposla decent! 
Omnia ant opere in toto, nee mela laborum 
Usquam dissideat ingressibus ultima primis. fiG 

Principio invigilant non expects ta legenti 

D,o, by Google 

And keep one constant tenor to the end. 
First, to surprising novelties inclined, 
The bards some unexpected objects find. 
To wake attention and suspend the mind. 
A cold dull order bravely they forsake ; 
Fixed and resolved the winding way to take. 
They nobly deviate from the beaten track. 
The poet marks the occasion, as he sings, 
To launch out boldly from the midst of things, 
Where some distinguished incident he views, 
Some shining action that deserves a Muse ; 
Thence by degrees the wondering reader brii^s 
To trace the subject backward to its springs. 
Lest at its entrance he should idly stay, ■. 
Shocked at his toil and dubious of his way. 
For when set down so near the promised goat. 
The flattering prospect tempts and fires his soul ; 
Already past the treacherous bounds appear. 
Then most at distance when they seem so near; 
Far from his grasp the fleeting harbor flies. 
Courts his pursuit, but mocks his dazzled eyes ; 

Promere, snspenaosque aniiaos novitate tenere, 
Atqae per ambages Eeriem deducere reium : 
Nee, quacunque viam suadet res gesta, aequuntur. 
Plerumque a mediis, arrepto tempore, fatl 
Incipiunt, ubi facta vident jam carmine digna. 
Inde minutalim gestarum ad limiim renim 
Tendentes prima repetunt ab otigjne factum. 
Hoc faciunl, operum primo ne in limine lector 
Hxrta,t, ignarusque viae, incertusque libocmn. 
Namque ubi eum metam jam tmn staluere sub ipsam, 
Lxtior ingreditur spe mentem aneclus inani, 
Dum putat exigui tinem prope ailesse laboris. 
Sed porlus, quos ante oculos hahel usque prapinqaol 
Approperaos, jam jamque tenet similisque (enenti est; 

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The promised region he with joy had spied, 
Vast tracks of oceans from his reach divide ; 
Still must he backward steer his lengthened way. 
And plough a wide interminable sea. 
No skilful poet would his Muse employ. 
From Paris' vole to trace the fall of Troy, 
Nor every deed of Hector to relate. 
While his strong arm suspended Ilion's fate — 
Work for some annalist, some heavy fool, 
Correctly dry and regularly dull ! 
Best near the end those dreadful scenes appear; 
Wake then, and rouse the furies of the war. 
But for his ravished fair at first engage 
Peleides' soul in unrelenting rage. 
Be this the cause that every Phrygian flood 
Swells with red waves, and rolls a tide of blood. 
That Xanthus' urns a purple deluge pour. 
And the deep trenches float with human gore. 
Nor former deeds in silence must we lose. 
The league at Aulis, and the mutual vows, 
The Spartan raging for his ravished spouse, 

Longa procul longo via dividil invia Iroctu: 
rieclendi retro curaua, via plurima eunti 
Keslat adhuc, multumque llli maris aequor arandnm. 
Haud sapiens quisquam, annalcs ceu congeiat, llii 
Inchoet excidiuin veteri pasloris ab u»que 
Judicio, memoratis ex ordine siogula, qulcquid 
Ad Trojam Aigolicis cesaatum est Hectoce duro. 
Conveniet potius prope Anem prxlia tanU 
Ocdiri, alque graves iras de virgine rapta 
Aversi /Eacidx ptEemittete : turn feia bella 
ConsuTgunt. turn picni smnes Danaunique, Phrygumque, 
Xanthusque, Simoisque, et inundant sanguine fossx. 
Haud tamen intetea qux pnecessete ulendum, 
Aulide jurantes Danaoa, vectasque pec eequor 

D,o, by Google 

The thousand ships, the woes which Ilion bore 
From Greece, for nine revolving years before. 
This rule with judgment should the bard maintain. 
Who brings Laertes' wandering son again 
From burning Ilion to his native reign. 
Let him not launch from Ida's strand his ships. 
With his attendant friends, into the deeps. 
Nor stay to vanquish the Ciconian host ; 
But let him first appear (his comrades lost) 
With fair Calypso on the Ogygian coast. 
From thence, a world of toils and dangers past, 
Waft him to rich Phteacia's realms at last. 
There at the feast his wanderings to relate, 
His friends' dire change, his own relentless fate. 
But if the bard of former actions sings. 
He wisely draws from those remoter springs 
The present order and the course of things. 

As yet unfold the event on no pretense, 
"Tis your chief task to keep us in suspense ; 
Nor tell what presents Atreus' son prepares, 

Mille rates, raptusque Helenes, et conjugis iras, 

Qiueque novem Troja est annos perpessa priores. 

Atque etiam in patriam siquis deducere adortos 

Enanlem Laerliaden poal Pereama capla, 

Non ilium Idaeo solventem e litCore classem 

Cum sociis primum memoret, Ciconesque subaclos: 

Sed jam turn Ogfgiam delatum sistal ad alta 

Virgiois, amissis sociis, Atlantidos antra. 

Exiii post varies Fhseacum in regna labores 

Inferat: hie positis demum ipse misenima mensis, 

Erroresque suos naiiet, casusque suorum. 

Ante tamen si gesla canunt, ab origine causai 

Expediunt, qui: deiiinc status, et [aut] qua: tempoia rerum 

Primus at ille labor versu tenuisse tegentem 
Suspensum, incertumque dia qui denique rerum 
£veDtus maneant: quo tandem duruE Achilles 

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To reconcile Achilles to the wars, 

Or by what god's auspicious conduct led, 

From Polyphemus' dea Ulysses fled. 

Pleased with the toil, and on the prospect bent. 

Our souls leap forward to the wished event ; 

No call of nature can our search restrain. 

And sleep, and thirst, and hunger, plead in vain ; 

Glad we pursue the labor we embraced. 

And leave reluctant when we leave at last 

See how the bard, triumphant in his art. 

Sports with our passions and commands the heart ! 

Now here, now there, he turns the varying song. 

And draws at will the captive soul along ; 

Racked with uncertain hints, in every sense 

We feel the lengthened anguish of suspense. 

When Homer once has promised to rehearse 

Bold Paris' fight in many a sounding verse. 

He soon pwrceives his reader's warm desire 

Wrapped in the event, and all his sou! on fire. 

The poet then contrives some specious stay, 

' Muneie placa,tiis regi lursuni inituat arnia 
In Teiicros: cujusve Dei Laertius heros 
Aaxilio, Polypheme, tuis evadaC ab antrii: 
Lectores cupidi expectant, durantque volentes. 
Nee peifene Dega,nt superest qundcunque laboruin, 
Inde licet fessoa somnus gravis avocet artus, 
Aut epulis ptacanda. fames, Ceieiisque libido: 
Hoc stndium, hanc opeiam sero dimittimus xgri. 
Nonne vides ut Kcpe aliquis nimis arte superbit 
Impiobus, et captis animis illudere gaudet, 
Kt nunc hue, deinde hue mentes deducit hiantes, 
Suspendilque diu misecos, lorquetque Icgentes? 
Hie quidem st te magnum certamen Atridx 
Et Paridis, multo promissum carmine nuper, 
Expectare avidum sevaque cupidine upturn 
SenseiiC, usque mnias trahec ultro, et diffetet acma, 

D,o, by Google 

7-131J BOOK II. 

Before he tells the fortune of the day, — 
Tilt Helen to the king and elders show. 
From some tall tower, the leaders of the foe, 
And name the heroes in the Relds below. 
When chaste Penelope, to gain her end. 
Invites her suitors the tough bow to bend 
(Her nuptial bed the victor's promised prize), 
With what address her various arts she plies ! — 
billed in delays, and politicly slow 
To search her treasures for her hero's bow. 

None lead the reader in the dark along 
To the last goal that terminates the song ; 
Sometimes the event must glance upon the sight, 
Not glare in day nor wholly sink in night 
"Tis thus Anchises to his son relates 
The various series of his fiiture fates ; 
For this the prophets see, on Tiber's shore. 
Wars, horrid wars, and Latium red with gore, 
A new Achilles rising to destroy 
With boundless rage the poor remains of Troy; 

Dum celsa Priamo palribusque e turre Latxena, 
Nomine quemque suo, reges ostendit Aehivos. 
Ipsa procos etiam ut jussit certite sagittis 
Penelope, optatas promittens callida t^ai 
Viclori, per quanta morx dispendia mentes 
Suspensas irahet, ante virl quam pcofetet ate urn 
Thesauiis elausum antiquis, penitusque lepostum '. 

Hand tamen omnino incertum melam usque sub ipsam 
ExactOTum opernm leclorem in nube telinquunt. 
Sed leium eventus nonnullis sxpe cane n do 
lodiciis purro ostendunt in luee maligna, 
Subluslrique aliquid dant cemere noclis in umbra. 
Hinc pater .li^neain, multique instantia vates 
Fata docent Lalio bella, hoirida bella manere, 
Atque alium partum Tiojsnis rebus Acbillem. 

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But raise his mind with prospects of success, 

And give the promise of a luting peace. 

This knew the hero when he sought the plains, 

Sprui^ from his ships and charged the embattled swains 

Hewed down the Latian troops with matchless might 

(The first auspicious omen of the fight). 

And at one blow gigantic Theron killed. 

Bold, but in vain, and foremost of the field. 

Thus too Patroclus with his latest breath 

Foretold his unregarding victor's death ; 

His parting soul anticipates the blow 

That waits brave Hector from a greater foe. 

Thou too, poor Turnus, just before thy doom, 

Couldst read thy end and antedate a tomb, 

When o'er thy head the balefiil fury flew, 

And in dire omens set thy fate to view ; 

A bird obscene, she fluttered o'er the field. 

And screamed thy death, and beat thy sounding shield. 

For lo ! the time, the fatal time is come. 

Charged with thy death, and heavy with thy doom, — 

When Turnus, though in vain, shall rue the day, 

Spem tamen incendunt animo, fiimantque labantem, 

Spondenles meliora, et res in liiie quielas. 

Ipse quoque agnovit |>er se, cum in limine belli 

Navibus egressus tunnas invasit agrestei, 1 

Atque (omen pugnce) prostravit niarte Latinos, 

Occiso, ante alios qui sese objecerat, hoste. 

Fata Mencetiadea etiam pnedixerat olim 

Victori moiiens majori inslare sub hoste, 

Quamvis haud fuerit res credita. Tu quoque, Turne, l 

Fi^vidisse tuos poleras, heu! perdite, casus 

Longe ante exitium, cum crebto obsctena volucria 

Per clypeum, perque oia volans stride ntibus alis 

Omine tutbavit mentem, admonuitque futuri. 

Hinc tibi tempus erit, roagno cum optaveris emptum 1 

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Shall curse the golden belt he bore away. 

Shall wish too late young Pallas' spoils unsought, 

And mourn the conquest he so dearly bought. 

The event should glimmer through its gloomy shroud, 

Though yet confused, and struggling in the cloud ; 

So, to the traveller, as he journeys on 

To reach the walls of some far distant town, 

If, high in air, the dubious turrets rise, 

Peep o'er the hills and dance before his eyes. 

Pleased the refreshing prospect to survey, 

Each stride he lengthens, and beguiles the way. 

More pleased (the tempting scene in view) to go. 

Than pensively to walk the gloomy vales below. 

Unless the theme within your bosom roll. 
Work in each thought, and njn through all the soul, 
Unless you alter with incessant pain. 
Pull down, and build the fabric o'er again. 
In vain, when rival wits your wonder raise, 
Vou'tl strive to match those beauties which you praise. 

To one just scope with fixed design go on ; 

IntKtnm PalUnta, et cum spolia aniea baltei 
Oderis, atque tibi baud stibit victoria parvo. 
Nani juvaC hxc ipsos inter prxscisse legenles, 
Quamvis sint et adbuc confusa, et nubila potra. 
Haud aliter longinqua petit (jui forle viator 
Mcenia, si positaa altis in collibua aices 
Nunc etiam dubias oculis videt, incipit ultro 
Lzetior ire viam, placidumijue urgere la-borera, 
Qaam cum nusquam ullx cetnuntur, quos adit, arces, 
Obscurum sed iter tendit convallibus imis. 

Tuque ideo, nisi mente prius, nisi pectore loto 
Crebra agites quodcunque canis, tecumque premendo 
Totum opus ledilices, iterumque itenimque letractes, 
Laudatuni altenos fnisira miiabeie carmen. 

Nee te foes inopina regal, casuique labantem : 

D,o, by Google 


Let sovereign reason dictate from her throne. 

By what determiaed methods to advance. 

But never trust to arbitrary chance. 

Where chance presides, all objects wildly joined 

Crowd on the reader, and distract his mind j 

From theme to theme unwilling is he tossed, 

And in the dark variety is lost. 

You see some bards, who bold excursions make 

In long digressions from the beaten track. 

And paint a wild unnecessary throng 

Of things and objects foreign to the song. 

For new descriptions from the road depart. 

Devoid of order, discipline, and art. 

So, many an anxious toil and danger passed, 

Some wretch returns from banishment at last ; 

With fond delay to range the shady wood, 

Now here, now there, he wanders from the road ; 

From field to field, from stream to stream he roves, 

And courts the cooling shelter of the groves. 

For why should Homer deck the gorgeous car. 

Omnia conailiis provisa, animoque volenti 

Certus age, ac semper nutu lationis eant les. 

Quandoquidem sfepe incecti hue, illncque vagamui, 

Inque alia ex aliis inviti illabimur orsa, 

Dum multa ac vadans animis sentenCia surgit. 

Srepe vide* primis nt qnidam longius orsis 

Digredinntur, et obliti quasi ccepta priura 

Longe aliis hserent nulla sermonibus arte, 

Et longos peragrant tractus aliena canentes. 

Ac velut in patriam peregrina si quis ab ota 

Ire cupit, post exiliuoi, durosque labores, 

lUe tamen recto non qua via tcainite ducit 

Carpit iter, sed nunc vagus hac, nunc errat et iliac, 

Undique dum studio fontes invisit inani, 

Fontesque, fluviosque, et amosnos ftigore lucoa. 

Nam quid opus gemmis armatos pingete cunus. 

D,o, by Google 

191] BOOK 11. 

When our raised souls are eager for the war? 
Or dwell on every wheel, when loud alarms 
And Mars in thunder calls the host to arms? 
When with his heroes we some dastard find. 
Of a vile aspect and malignant mind. 
His awkward figure is not worth our care, 
His monstrous length of head, or want of hair, 
Not though he goes with mountain shoulders by, 
Short of a foot, or blinking in an eye. 
Such trivial objects call us off too long 
From the main drift and tenor of the song. 
Drances appears a juster character, 
In council bold, but cautious in the war ; 
Factious and loud the listening throng he draws, 
And swells with wealth and popular applause ; 
But what in ours would never find a place, 
The bold Greek language may admit with grace. 

Why should I here the stratagems recite, 
And the low tricks of every little wit ? 
Some out of time their stock of knowledge boast, 

Multa superquc rolas, super BJtea inuUa morari 
Tunc, cum bella minus poscunt, atque arma fremit Man? 
Nee siquem indecoremque animi, pugnasque pcrosum 
Egregioa inter memoras heroas in armis 
Caslta scqui, cupidi expectant audire legentes 
Qua facie, quibus ills humeris, qualive capillo 
Incedat, captusne oculo, an pes claudicet alter, 
Aut longo vertex ductu consutgat acutus, 
Oidine cuncta, aliud quasi nil tibi restet agendum. 
Aplior Ausonius Drances, cui fi-igida bellu 
Dextra quidem, sed consilns non futjlis autoi, 
Dives opum, pollens lingua, et popularibua aurjs. 
Multa lamen Graiie fert indulgenlia linguie. 
Qua: nostios minus addeceant, gravioia sequentes. 
Quid tibi nonnnllas artes, atudiumque minorum 

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Till in the pedant all the bard is lost. 

Such without care their useless lumber place ; 

One black, confused, and undigested mass 

With a wild heap encumbers every part, 

Nor ranged with grace, nor methodized with art ; 

Bot then in chief, when things abstruse they teach. 

Themes too abstracted for the vulgar reach : 

The hidden nature of the deities. 

The secret laws and motions of the skies, 

Or from what dark original began 

'ITie fiery soul, and kindled up the man. 

Oft they in odious instances engage, 

Anil for examples ransack every age. 

With every realm ; no hero will they pass, 

But act against the rules of time and place. 

Avoid, ye youths, these practices ; nor raise 

Your swelling souls to such a thirst of praise. 

Some bards of eminence there are, we own. 

Who sing sometimes the journeys of the Sun, 

The rising stars, and labors of the Moon, 

Indignum rereram? sunt qui, ut ae plurima aosse 
Oslentent, patealque suaium opulentia rerum, 
Quicquid opum congesseiunt, sine moie, sine arte 
Jnisi etfundunt, et vecajtius omnia acervant: 
Fnecipue siquid summotum, siqujd opertum, 
Atque parum vulgi nutuni auiibus, aul radianlis 
De cosli arcana ratiane, Deumve lemota 
Natura, aul animie obscure impenetrabilis oitu. 
Ssepe etiam aecumulant antiqua exempla virorum, 
Carminis ingtatum genus! hinc atque iiide petita, 
Quamvis siepe illis tempusque locusque tepugnet. 
He, pueri, ne talem animia inducite morem, 
Nee vos decipiat laudis tarn dira cupido. 
Haud sum animi dubius magnos memucaie poetas 
Intetdum Solisque vias. Lunxque labores, 


■220] BOOK IL 

What impulse bids the ocean rise and fe,!!, 
What motions shake and rock the trembling ball, 
Though foreign subjects had engaged their care, 
The rage, the din and thunder of the war 
Through the loud field ; the genius of the earth. 
Or rules to raise the vegetable birth ; 
Yet 'tis but seldom, and when time and place 
Require the thing, and reconcile to grace. 
Those foreign objects necessary seem, 
And flow, to all appearance, from the theme ; 
With so much art so well concealed they please, 
When wrought with skill, and introduced with ease. 
Should not Anchises, such occasion shown. 
Resolve the questions of his godlike son, — 
If souls deprived of Heaven's fair light repair 
Once more to day, and breathe the vital air, 
Or if from high Olympus firat they came, 
Inspired with portions of ethereal flame. 
Though here encumbered with the mortal frame? 
Tire not too long one subject when you write, ' 
For 'tis variety that gives delight j 

Astronimque orhis, qua vi tumida ^^uota sntgant, 

Unde tremor teiris; quamvis jIU OTsa sequantur 

Longe alia, aut duti cantsntes pnelia Martis, 

Aut terrx mores varios, cultusque docenles. 

At prius inveaere locum, dein, tempore capto, 

Talia subjiciunt parci, ncc sponte videntur 

Fan ea; rem credas hoc ipsam poscere, ita aslum 

Dissimulant, aditusque petunt super omnia molles. 

Cur pater Anchises natum opportuna togantem 

Non doceat, rursusne anims semel eethere cassffi 

Ad ccelum redeant, hiandique ad luminis auras? 

Igneus Bnne oUis vigor, el coelestis origo 

Seminibus, quantum non noxia corpora (ardant? 

Quandoquidem, ut variutn sit opus (namque inde voluptas 

D,o, by Google 


But when to that variety inclined, 

Y6u seek new objects to relieve the mind, 

Be sure let nothing forced or labored seem, 

But watch your time, an4- steal from off your theme, 

Conceal with care your longing to depart — 

For art's chief pride is still to cover art. 

So Mulciber, in future ages skilled, 

Engraved Rome's glories on Eneas' shield, 

On the bright orb her future fame enrolled. 

And with her triumphs charged the rising gold ; 

Here figured fights the blazing round adorn. 

There his long line of heroes yet unborn. 

But if a poet of Ausonian birth 

Describes the various kiiigdoms of the Earth 

Wide interspersed — the Medes, or swarthy Moors - 

The different natures of their soils explores. 

And paints the trees that bloom on India's shores, 

On his own land he looks with partial eyes, 

And lifts the fair Hesperia to the skies ; 

Grata venil) rebus non uaque h£Brebia m iisdem. 

Verum ubi vis animis varius succunere fessis, 

Ingiederi&qne novas facies, rerumquc figoias, 

Paulatim captu primis delabere coeptU 

Tempore, nee positis insil violentia tebus: 

Omnia s)ioiiCe aua veniant, lateati^ue vagandi 

Dulcia amor, cunctamque potens labor aceulat artem. 

Rec Italum in clypeo. Roinanorumque tiiumphos 
Fecerat Ignipotens, pugnalaque in ocdine bella, 
Stirpia ab Ascanio quondam genua omne fulurum. 
Tdm si quia Lalio cretua de sanguine vates 
Prosequitur varias oras, moresque locorun*, 
Medosque. .^Cthiopasque, el diles arboris Indos; 
Immemot ille nimis palrise, oblitusve suorum. 
Si non IialiiB laudea tBquaverit astris; 

D,o, by Google 

-m"] BOOK n. 

To all the fair Hesperia he prefers. 

And makes the woods of Bactria yield to hers, 

With proud Panchaia ■:— though her groves she boasts, 

And breathes a cloud of incense from her coasts. 

Hear then, ye generous youths, on this regard 
I should not blame the conduct of the bard. 
Who in soft numbers and a flowing strain 
Relieves and reconciles our ears again. 
When I the various implements had sung 
That to the fields and rural trade belong, 
In sweet harmonious measures would I tell 
How Nature mourned when the great Cfesar fell. 
When Bacchus' curling vines had graced my lays. 
The rural pleasures next should share my praise. 

The labor ended, and'complete the whole, 
Some bards with pleasure wander round the goal, 
The flights and sallies of the Muse prolong, 
And add new beauties to the finished song ; 
Pleased with the excursion of the charming strain, 
We strive to quit the work, but strive in vain. 

Cni neqne Hedoimn vfUat, neqne Bactra, neqne Indi, 
Tutiqne thnrirerii Panchaia certet arenis. 

Qnuc etiam, egregii rates, ego carmina veaira 
Hand eqaidem argaerim, qni peclora fessa legentam 
Interdam, atqne antes recreatis carmine dalci. 
Non ego, post Celei crates, post tribula dicta, 
Rastiaqne, plauitrarjae, et inilexo cum vnmere aratra, 
Addubitem flere extincti miserabile funtia 

Komani ducis; aut niris laudare qoietem, ; 

Post vites dictas Bacchi, et sylveslria dona. 

Vidi etiam, qui jam perfecto munere longam 
Suhjecere motam, extremo sob fine vagaries 
Eiactorum operum. vacua diim carmina musa 
In lorgum traherent, cujus dnlcedine mita ; 

Fe9«i animi cuperent itemnnjue iterumque redire. 

D,o, by Google 


Thus, were the bees the subject of my Muse, 
Their laws, their natures, and celestial dews. 
Poor Aristaeus should his fate disclose. 
His mother's counsel should assuage his woes ; 
Old Proteus here should struggle in his chain. 
There in soft verse the Thracian bard complain 
(As Philomela on a poplar bough 
Bewails her young, melodious in her woe) ; 
Fangxan steeps his sorrows should return, 
And vocal Thrace with Rhodope should mourn, 
Hebnis should roll, low- murmuring, to the deep, 
And barbarous nations wonder why they weep. 
Thus too the poets who the names declare 
Of kings and nations gathering to the war, 
Sometimes diversify the strain, and sing 
The wondrous change of the Ligurian kingj 
While for his Phaeton his sorrows flow. 
And his harmonious strains beguile his woe, 
O'er all the man the snowy feathers rise. 
And in a tuneful swan he mounts the skies. 
Thus too Hippolytus, by Dian's care 

Me nulla idcicco quiret vis aistere quin, post 

Naturas el apum dictaa et Uquida mella, 

Ttistis Aristei questus, monituaqne parentis 

Proaequerer duici sermone, el Protea vinclum. 

Addam Threicii carmen miseiabile vatis, 

Qualis populea queritor Philomela sub umbra, 

Ut Rhodope, ut Paugxa fleant, Rhesi ut domus altft, 

Atque Gete, atque Hebrus, el Actiaa Orilhyia, 

Non aliam ob causaro ceges qui in praslia euntes 

Dinumeranl, populosque, moram Iraxere cajienles 

Aut Ligurum regi, ob casum Phaelhorlis amati 

Dum gemit, el meestum muaa solatur amorem, 

In sylvis cano natas in corpore plunias: 

Aut lursum Hippolytum supetas venisse sub auras 

Dpi .?d by Google 

And Pxan's art, retains to upper air. 

The bards now paint the anns their heroes wield. 

And each bold figure on the glittering shield ; 

Great Aventinus, great Alcides' son, 

Wore the proud trophy idiich his father won ; 

An hundred serpents o'er the buckler rolled. 

And Hydra hissed from all her heads in gold. 

Now blooming Tempe's cool retreats they sing. 

And now with flowery beauties paint the spring. 

Now with a sylvan scene the floods they hide, 

Or teach the famed Eridanus to glide, 

Or sport on fabled Achelotis' side, 

Or hoary Nereus' numerous race display, 

The hundred azure sisters of the sea ; 

With them the nymphs that haunt their native woods, 

And the long orders of the sylvan gods. 

With gay descriptions sprinkle here and there 
Some grave instructive sentences with care, 
That touch on life, some moral good pursue, 
And give us virtue in a transient view — 

I^Eoniis tevocatam berbii, et amote Diiiui. 
Nee vero interea qox caique in*i){nu. 'jux arma 
Ptsetereant ; pingnnt c\ypeoi, atque llercule palcbru 
Palcher ArentintH latui olim iniiipie [iat>-rnunt 
Ceatom angnes, ciocUmqae gcnl fei|Fcn(i<>i» llyUtm, 
Sxpe dUm lota aiiv«u canont, e« (tiniilt 'I'emiw, 
Saac varik pingunt cam fbfiiliu* turujimam "i; 
NoDC iiri^a Itpi'Mt jn'lu'.unt (t/nliliw ain'itf, 
Gtebtaqoe flnrinniin in ri',n* tfrWarHut 'ifo/n, 
AX Veo«i Pjviini, atrt /f^Ji f,i.Ui'/: 
A/U=nt et Panai, faniv^ InjvVKUfw f/v !'■*«, 

D,o, by Google 


Rules which the (ntore siic may make his own. 
And point the golden precepts to his son. 

Sometimes on little images to fall. 
And thus illustrate mighty things by smaO, 
With due success the licensed poet dares : 
\VheD to the anis the Phrygians he compares. 
Who, leaving Carthage, gather to the seas. 
Or the laborious Tynans to the bees. 
But swanning flies, oflensive animals, 
Tliat buzz incessant o'er the smoking pales. 
Are images too low to paint the hosts 
That roll and blacken o'er Ausonia's coasts ; 
The lofty Muse who sung the Latian war 
Would think such trivial things beneath her care. 
How from his majesty would Virgil fall. 
If Tumus, scarce repelled from Ilion's wall. 
Retiring grimly with a tardy pace. 
Had e'er been figured by the patient ass ! 
Whom unregarded troops of boys surround. 
While o'er his sides their rattling strokes resound ; 

Quodque olim jubeant natos meminiise puentea. 

At non exiguis etiam te insistere rebus 
Abnuerim, ii magqa voles componere parvis, 
Aut apibus Tyiios, aut Ttoja ex urbe profectos 
Formicii, l.ibycum properanl dum linquere liltus. 
Sed non Ausonii recte fadisaima muaca 
Mitilis xquariC numerum, cum plurima mulcttam 
I'ervolitat; neque enim in Latio magno ore sonantem 
Arraa, ducesque decet tam vile* decidere in rea. 
Nee dictis erit ullus honos, si cum actua ab urbe 
Daunius hostili Teucris urgentibua heios 
Vix pogna abaialit, aimilia dicetur aselio, 
Quern pueci Ixta paacentem pinguia in argo 
Ordca itipitibut duris detcudere t^ndunl 
Instantca, (|uatiuntque sudes per lerga, per armas; 

D,o, by Google 

Slow he gives way, and crops the springing grain. 
Turns on each side, and stops to graze again. 
In every point the thing is just, we know, 
But then the image is itself too low ; 
For Tumus, sprung from such a glorious strain, 
The vile resemblance would with scorn disdain. 
With better grace the lion may appear, 
Who, singly impotent the crowd to dare, 
Repel, or stand their whole embodied war. 
Looks grimly back and rolls his glaring eye. 
Despairs to conquer and disdains to fly. 

Since fictions are allowed, be sure, ye youths, 
Your ticlions wear at least the air of truths. 
When Glaucus meets Tydides on the plain. 
Inflamed with rage, and reeking from the slain. 
Some think they cotild not pass the time away, 
In such long narratives and cool delay, 
Amidst the raging tumult of the day. 
But yet we hear fierce Diomed relate 
The crime of bold Lycurgus, and his fate ; 

IHe autein campo vix cedere, el inter eundum 
Sa^e hie, atque illic avidis in»steie molis. 
Omnia conveniunt, rerumque simillima imago est: 
Credo equidem; sed turpe peeus: nee 'I'urnua aselluni, 
Turnns avis atavisque potens, dignabitur heros. 
Aplius banc speciem leferet leo, (|uem neque tetga 
lia dare, aut virtus patitur, neque euflicit unus 
Tendere tot contra, telisque obstate sequentum. 

Hoc quoqoe non studiis nobis leviurihui instat 
Curandum, ut, quando non semper vera prtifamur 
Fingenles, saltern sint ilia simillima veris. 
Vidi aliquos, qui, cum Glauco medio xquore belli 
Tydides ferus occuttit, vix credere poiaunt 
Tot tcaiisse moras longis sermonibui uios 
Inter »e»e ambos, dum fervent omnia ca;de. 
Alter enim dnri narrat fera fata Lycurgi, 

D,o, by Google 


And Glaucus talks of brave Bellerophon, 
Doomed for a lawless passion not his own, 
Sets forth the hero's great exploits to view, 
How the bold chief the dire Chimsera slew. 

The Solymaean host, and Amazonian crew. 
For those surprising fictions are designed 
With their sweet falsehoods to delight the mind ; 
The bards expect no credit should be given 
To the bare lie, though authorized by Heaven, 
Which oft with confidence they vent abroad. 
Beneath the needful sanction of a god. 
Twas thus the roasted heifers of the Sun 
Spoke o'er the fire with accents not their own ; 
'Twas thus Achilles' steed his silence broke, 
And Trojan ships in human voices spoke ; 
As wrought by Heaven these wonders they relate. 
All airy visions of the ivory gate ! 

Speak things but once, if order be your care. 
For more the cloyed attention will not bear, 
And tedious repetitions tire the ear ; 

Crimine damnali falso alter Betlerophontb 
Facia lefert, magna domitam virtute ChimEeram, 
Et victos pariter Solymos, et Amazonas armis. 
Nam qux multa canunt ficta, et non crcilita vates, 
Dulcia (juo vacua* leneant mendacia mentcs, 
Illis nulla (ides, quam nee sibi denique aperti 
Exposcont, nee dissimulant, licet omnia obumbrenl 
Relligione Deum, qusE non credenda profanlur. 
Idcirco Solis peihibenC atmenta loquuta 
MoTtua, el in verubus Vulcano tosta colurnis, 
Ut minus acris eqaos itidem miremur Achillia, 
Verbaque veliferas rostris fudisse carinas; 
Omnia qua; porta veniunt insomnia eburna. 

Disce etiam, pulchri tibi si cura ordinis ullB est. 
Res lantum semel effari : repetita bis auiei 
Ferre negant; subeunt fessas fastidia mentes; 

D,o, by Google 

■aM] BOOK II. 

In this we differ from the Grecian train, 
Who tell Atrides' visions o'er again. 
Tis not enough with them we know the cause 
Why great Achilles from the war withdraws. 
Unless the weeping hero, on the shore. 
Tells his blue mother all we heard before. 
So much on punctual niceties they stand, 
That, when their kings dispatch some high command. 
All, word for word, the embassadors rehearse 
In the same tenor of unvaried verse- 
Not so did Venulus from Arpi bring 
The final answer of the ^tolian king. 

Let others labor on a vast design, 
A less, but polished with due care, be thine ; 
To change its structure be your last delight ; 
Thus spend the day and exercise the night, 
Incessant in your toil. But if you choose 
A larger field and subject for your Muse, 
If scanty limits should the theme confine, 

Quanqnam etiam hie nustris cernes diflere PeUsgos. 
Nam tibi non referent semel illi somnia Atrid^ : 
Nee sat erit, si lettulerint quid fortis Achilles 
MenCe dolens Danaum sese subduxerit armis, 
Ipse iterum i^cides nisi solo in liUore ponti 
Flens eadem xquorea: narraveril omnia matri. 
Quin etiam reges, cum dani mandata ferenda, 
Cuncta canunl priua ipsi, eadem mox carmine eodero 
Mis^ oratores repetunt, nihil oidine verao. 
Non sic Ausonius Venulus, iega.tus ab Aipis 
Cum tedit, jEtoli tefetens responsa tyranni. 

Altum aliis assurgat opus; tu nocte dieque 
Eiiguum medilatoT, obi sint omnia culta, 
Et visenda novis iterumque iletumque figuiis. 
Quod si longarum cordi magis ampla viarum 
Sunt spatia, angustis cum res tibi finibus atcta. 
Id longum (rahito arte: vise tibi mille ttahendi, : : 

Dpi .?d by Google 


Learn with just art to lengthen the design 
Beyond its native bounds. The roving mind 
A thousand methods to this end may find ; 
Unnumbered fictions may with truths be joined ; 
Nature supplies a fund of matter still j 
Then cull the rich variety at will. 
See how the bard calls down the embattled gods, 
All ranged in factions, from their bright abodes ! 
Who, fired with mutual hate, their arms employ, 
And in the field declare for Gre«ce or Troy, 
Till Jove convenes a council to assuage 
Their rising fiiry, and suspend their rage — 
Though the blest gods, removed from human eyes, 
Live in immortal ease within the distant skies. 
And now the infernal realm his theme he makes. 
The reign of Pluto, the Tartarean lakes, 
The Furies dreadful with their curling snakes. 
He gathers omens from each bird that flies. 
And signs from every wing that beats the skies. 
He now describes a banquet, where the guest 
Prolongs with narratives the royal feast ; 

MiUe modi : nam (icta potes multa addere veiis, 

Nonne vides, ut nostra Deos in prfelia ducant, 
Ho» Teucris, alios Danais socia acma. ferentes, 
Certantesque inter se odiis, donee pater ipse 
Concilium vocet, atque ingentes molliat iras? 
Cum secura tamen penitus natura Deorum 
Degat, et aspeclu nostro summota quiescat. 
Addunt infernasque domos, legna invia vivis, 
Tartareosque lacus, Ditemque, et Erinnyas atras. 
Turn volucrum captant canlus, atque omina pennce: 
Ssepe etiam hospitibus convivia Ixta receptis, 
Regalesque canunt epulaa, ubi multa repostis 
Naorntuc dapibui vaiio seimone vicissim. 


313] BOOK tL 

Or at the glorious hero's tomb we read 
Of games ordained in hDOor o( the deatl. 
And oft tbt mercies ia old dmes displayed. 
To their own gods their annual rites are paid ; 
For moastioas Fytfaua sban, their pcaiees lise. 
And lift the &me of Phcebus to the skies ; 
la faymos Alcides' labors thejr resoood, 
MTfaile Cacus lies extended oa the grooDd, 
Ahemalc sit^ the labtMs of his hands, 
EnjoiDcd by Serce Eatystbens' stern commands ; 
The den of Cams crowns the gratefol strain, 
Where the grim nooDster bceathes his flames tn vain. 

Mark how sometinies the bard without control 
Exerts his fire, and pours forth alt his soul ; 
His lines so dating, and hb words so strong. 
We see the sal^ect figured in the song : 
When with the winds old ocean be deforms. 
Or paints the rage and horrors of the storms ; 
Or drives on pointed rocks the bursting ships. 
Tossed on the Euxine, or Scilian deeps ; 
Or sings the plagues that blast the Uvid sky, 

Nunc Indos celebrant magnorum ad busts viruruni : 
Annua nimc patiiis pcTagunt Diis ^cra perklo 
Servati quondam, laudesque ad sidera tollunt 
Aut Phoebi, monslco irgenli Pylhgne peremplo, 
Aut magni AIcuIee, Cacum ut videre jacentem: 
Rege sub Eurystheo tulerit qum ille labores 
Alterni repetunt cantu: super omnia Caci 
Speloncam adjiciunt, spicantemquc ignibus ipsuin. 

An memoreni, quandoque omnes inlendere nervin 
Cum libuit, veibisque ipsam rem ruquare caneitdu? 
Sea diccnda feci tempestas hoirida ponli, 
Ventoium et cables, fracLEque ad saxa carina: 
Aut Siculo aognsto, aut impacato Euxino: 
Sive coorta repente lues, cum multa Terarum 

D,o, by Google 


When beasts by herds, and men by nations die ; 
Or the fierce flames that Etna's jaws expire, 
Her melted rocks, and deluges of Are, 
When from her mouth the bursting vapor flies, 
And, charged with ruin, thunders to the skies. 
While drifts of smoke in sooty whirlwinds play, 
And clouds of cinders stain the golden day. 
See ! as the poet sounds the dire alarms. 
Calls on the war, and sets the hosts in arms, 
Squadrons on squadrons driven, confusedly die. 
Grim Mars in all his terrors strikes the eye ; 
More than description rising to the sight. 
Presents the real horrors of the fight. 
A new creation seems our praise to claim 
{Hence Greece derives the sacred poet's name) ; 
The dreadful clang of clashing arms we hear ; 
The agonizing groan, the fruitless prayer. 
And shrieks of suppliants thicken on the ear. 
Who, when he reads a city stormed, forbears 
To feel her woes, and sympathize in tears ? 
When o'er the palaces the flames aspire 

Corpora, multa homiaum leto data; sive Sicana 
Dicenduin quantis terra tonet ^na ruinia, 
Proriunpens atiam cceli usque ad sideia nabem, 
Turbine fumantem piceo, et candente favilla. 
Vklisti cum bella canunt horrentia, et arma, 
Arma fremunt, raisccntque equilura peditumque ruinasj 
Ante oculus Martis sese offcrl Iristis imago, 
Non (antum ut <tici videantur, sed fieri res, 
Unde ipsis nomen Craii fecere poetis; 
Amiormn fragor audirj, gemituaque cadentura, 
Cedentumque ictus, et inania vota precanlum, 
Quis quoque, cam captas evolvunt hostibua urbes, 
Tempeiet a lachrymis? Cecturum ad culmina ssevas 
Ire faces, passimque domos involveie flammaa 

D,o, by Google 

From wall to wall, and wrap the domes in fire ; 

The sire, with years and hostile rage oppressed ; 

The starting infant clinging to the breast. 

The trembling mother runs, with piercing cries. 

Through friends and foes, and shrieking rends the skies ; 

Dragged from the altar, the distracted fair 

Beats her white breast, and tears her golden hair ; 

Here in thick crowds the vanquished fly away, 

There the proud victors heap the wealthy prey. 

With rage relentless ravage their abodes. 

Nor spare the sacred temples of the gods. 

O'er the whole town they run with wild affright. 

Tumultuous haste, and violence of flight. 

Why should I mention how our souls aspire. 
Lost in the raptures of the sacred fire? 
For even the soul not always holds the same, 
But knows at different times a different frame ; 
Whether with rolling seasons she complies. 
Turns with the Sun, or changes with the skies j 
Or through loi^ toil, remissive of her fires, 
Droops with the mortal frame her force inspires; 

Cetnere erit, tcepidosque senea, puerosque parentei 

Amplexos, f1entesi|ue ip%a,i ad sidera matres 

Tollentes clunorem, hostes interque suosque : 

Abatroclasque nurua adytis, atisque Deorum, 3E 

Et crinem laniare, et pectora tundere palmis : 

Ho$ fugeie, ast illo$ ingentem abduccce pnedam, 

Perque domos perque alta tuunt deluhra Deorum, 

Atque hue alque illuc tota discurritm urbe. 

Quid cum aiilmis sacer est furor adiIiCus, atque potens vis? 3( 
Nam variant species animoruin, et pectora nostra 
Nunc bos, nunc illos, multo discrimine, motus 
Concipiunt; leu quod creli mutatur in hotas 
Tempestas, hominumque simul quuque pectora mutant; 
Seu quia non iidem respondent s^e labnre * 

Semus efiieti, atque animus cum coipore languel; 

D,o, by Google 


Or that our minds alternately appear 
Now bright with joy, and now o'ercast with care. 
No ! but the gods, the immortal gods supply 
The glorious fires ; they speak the deity. 
Then blest is he who waits the auspicious nod. 
The warmth divine, and presence of the god ; 
Who his suspended labors can restrain. 
Till Heaven's serene indulgence smiles again. 
But strive, on no pretence, against your power. 
Till time brings back the voluntary hour. 
Sometimes their verdant honors leave the woods. 
And their dry urns defraud the thirsty floods ; 
Nor still the rivers a full channel yield. 
Nor Spring with flowery beauties paints the field : 
The bards no less such fickle changes find ; 
Damped is the noble ardor of the mind ; 
Their wonted toil her wearied powers refuse ; 
Their souls grow slack and languid to the Muse, 
Deaf to their call, their efforts are withstood ; 
Round their cold hearts congeals the freezing blood, 

Seu quia curarum jnterilum, vacuique doloris; 
Interdum triites c3:co intus Cundimui ;estu. 
Dii polius noslris ardoreni hunc mentjbus addunt, 
Dii potiua: feltuque ideo qui teinpora quivit, 
Adventumque Dei, et sacrum expectare calorem, 
PauUsperque operi posito subducere mentem, 
Mutati donee redeal dementia cceli. 
Sponte sua veniet justum (ne accersile) tempus. 
Interdum et sylvis frondes, et fontibus humor 
Desunt, nee victis semper cava flumina ripia 
Plena fluunt, nee semper agros ver ptngit apricos. 
Sors eadem incerlis contingit sxpe poetb. 
Interdum exhaustse languent ad carmina vires. 
Absumptusque vigor, studiorumque imroemor est mens ; 
Torpescunt sensus; circum prxeordia sanguis 
Stat gelidus; credas penitus migrasse Camcenas, 

D,o, by Google 

-«M] BOOK It. 

You'd think the Muses fled ; the god no more 
Would fire the bosom where he dwek before, 
No more return. How often, though in vain. 
The poet would renew the wonted strain, 
Nor sees the gods who thwait his fruitless care. 
Nor angry Heaven relentless to his prayer ! 
Some read the ancient bards, of deathless fame, 
And from their raptures catch the noble flame 
By just degrees ; they feed the glowing vein, 
And aU the immortal ardor bums again 
In its fill) light and heat ; the Sun's bright ray 
Thus (when the clouds dispierse) restores the day. 
Whence shot this sudden flash that gilds the pole? 
The god, the god comes rushing on his soul. 
Fires with ethereal vigor every part, 
Throu^ every trembliDg limb he seems to dart, 
Works in each vein, and swells his rising heart ; 
Deep in his breast the heavenly tumult plays. 
And sets his mounting spirits on a. blaze. 

Notaque nunquam ipsum ledituram in peclora Phcebum: 
Nil adeo Muse, nil subvenit autor Apollo. 
Ah I quolies aliquis friutra coDsuela retentat 
Munera, nee cernit caelum se tendere cootra, 
Adveraosque Deos, atque implacabile numen I 
Quidam autem inventus, qui sepe reduceret aurai 
Optatas veteruoi canUudo caimina valum, 
Paulatimque animo bland um invitaret amorem, 
Donee collecte vires, animique refecti, 
Et rediit vigoi ills, velut post nubita et imbres 
Sol micat EEthereus: nnde luec tam clara repenle 
Tempestas? Deus eccel Deus jam corda faligat, 
Allios insinuat venis, pcnilusque per arlus 
Diditur, atque faces sa^vas sub pectore vetsat. 
Nee se jam capit acer agens calor, igneaque intus 
Vig siBvil, totoque agital se corpore numen. 
Itle aulem exultans jactat jam non sua verba. 

D,o, by Google 


Nor can the rs^ng flames themselves contdn. 
For the whole god descends into the man ; 
He quits mortality, he knows no bounds, 
But sings inspired in more than human sounds, 
Not from his breast can shake the immortal load. 
But pants and raves impatient of the god ; 
And, rapt beyond himself, admires the force 
That drives him on reluctant to the course. 
He calls on Phcebus, by the god oppressed 
Who breathes excessive spirit in his breast ; 
No force of thirst or hunger can control 
The fierce, the ruling transport of his soul. 
Oft in their sleep, inspired with rage divine. 
Some bards enjoy the visions of the Nine — 
Visions themselves with due applause may crown. 
Visions that Phcebus or that Jove may own ; 
To such a height the god exalts the flame, ■ 
And so unbounded is their thirst of fame. 

But here, ye youths, exert your timely care, 
Nor trust the ungovernable rage too far ; 
Use not your fortune, nor unfurl your sails, 
Though softly courted by the flattering gales ; 

Oblitusque hominem niirum sonat: haud potis ignem 
Excutere, invitum miiatui se iie, rapiqae 
Praecipitem, le, Phcebe, vocans, te, Phcebe, prementem 
Vociferans, plenusque Deo, stimulisque subactus 
Haud placidis; non ille dapum, nan ilk quietis 
Aul somni memor, hanc potis est deponere curam. 
Siepe etiam in somnis memores Phcebeia verssnt 
Manera, et invent! quidam (|ui sepe sopore 
In medio Musis cecinere et Apolline digna. 
Tanlus Hmor famx, prcesenlis tanta Dei vis I 

Ne lamen ah I nimium, puer o ne fide calori; 
Non te fortuna semper permitcimua uti, 
Pnesenlique aura, sxvam dum pectore numen 

D,o, by Google 

-M2] BOOK 11. 

Refuse them still, and call your judgment in. 
While the fierce god exults and reigns within. 
To reason's standard be your thoughts confined, 
Let judgment calm the tempest of the mind ; 
Indulge your heat with conduct, and restrain. 
Learn when to draw, and when to give, the rein ; 
But always wait till the warm raptures cease. 
And lull the tumults of the soul to peace ; 
Then, nor till then, examine strictly o'er 
What your wild sallies might suggest before. 

Be sure from Nature never to depart ; 
To copy Nature is the task of art 
The noblest poets own her sovereign sway. 
And ever follow where she leads the way. 
From her the different characters they trace, 
That mark the human or the savage race, 
Each various and distinct. In every stage 
They paint mankind — their humors, sex, and ag( 
They show what manners the slow sage become. 
What the brisk youth in aU his sprightly bloom ; 

In^deti St potiiu ratioqne, et cura renitat. 
Frame siste furentem animum. et sub signa vocalo, 
Et prenieie, et laxas scito dare cautus habenas. 
Atque ideo semper tunc expectare jubemus 
Dum fuetint placati animi, compressus et omnis 
Impetus : hie lecolcns sedato corde revise 
Omnia, quEC ciEcas menti subjecerit ardor. 

Piasteiea haud lateat te nil conarier arlem, 
Naturam nisi ut assimulet, piopiu5<jae lequatur. 
Hanc unara vates sibi proposuere magistrani ; 
Quicquid agunt, hujus semper vestigia servant. 
Hinc varios moresque hominum, moresque 
Aut studia imparihus diversa a^atibus apta 
EfBogunt facie verborum, et imagine reddunt 
Qufe [ardosque lenes deceant, jnvenesque virentes, 



In every word and sentiment explain 

How the proud monarch differs from the swain. 

I nauseate all confounded characters, 

Where young Tekmachus too grave appears. 

Or reverend Nestor acts beneath his years. 

The poet suits his speeches, when he sings, 

To proper persons and the state of things ; 

On each their just distinctions are bestowed. 

To mark, a male, a female, or a god. 

Thus when in Heaven seditious tumults rise, 

Amongst the radiant senate of the skies. 

The sire of gods and sovereign of mankind 

In a few words unfolds his sacred mind. 

Not so fair Venus, who at large replies. 

And pities Troy, and counts her miseries, 

Woes undeserved. But with contention fired, 

And with the spirit of revenge inspired, 

Fierce Juno storms amidst the blest abodes. 

And stuns with loud complaints the listening gods. 

Fremineumque genus, qaBnCum quoque run coletiti, 
Aut famulo distet regum alto e sanguine cretus. 
Nam mihi non placeal, teneros ai sil gravis annos 
Telemachus supra, senior si Nestur inani 
Gaudeat et ludo, et canibus, pictisve pharetris. 
El (guoniam in nostra multi persxpe loquuntur 
Carmine, verlia illis pro condilione virorum 
Aut return damus, e( proprii tribuuntur honores, 
Cuique suus, geu inas, seu foemina, sive Deus sit. 
Semper enim sammus Divum pater atque huminum rex 
Ipse in concilio falur, si forte coorCa 
Seditio, paucis: at non Venus aurea contra 
Pauca refert, Teucruro indignoa miserala labores. 
Ingieditur funis, alqae alia silenCia rumpit. 
Acta furore gravi, Juno, ae fteta usque querelia. 
Cumque eliam juveni gliscal violentia major. 

D,o, by Google 


When youthfiil Tunius the stern combat claims, 
His rising heart is filled with martial flames ; 
Impelled by rage, and bent to prove his might, 
His soul springs forward, and prevents the fight ; 
Roused to revenge, his kindling spirits glow. 
Confirm his challenge, and provoke the foe. 
The fugitive of Troy. But while his rage 
And youthful courage prompts him to engage, 
On Latium's king incumbent it appears. 
Grown old in prudence, piety, and years, 
To weigh events and youthful heat assuage. 
With the cold caution and the fears of age. 
In Dido's various character is seen 
The furious lover and the gracious queen : 
When Troy's famed chief, commanded from above, 
Prepares to quit her kingdom and her love, 
She raves, she storms with unavailing care, 
Grown wild with grief, and frantic with despair ; 
Through every street she flies, with anguish stung, 
And broken accents flutter on her tongue ; 
Her words confused and interrupted flow, 
Speak and express the hurry of her woe. 

Ardens cui virtus, animu»que in pectore pKB»en», 
Nulla mora id Turno, nee dicta animosa retractal : 
Stat conCerre manum. et certaraine provocat hustem, 
Desertorem Aaix : veium quantum ille feroci 
Virlute exuperat, lanio est impensius aequum 
Et pietale gravein, et Sedalo corde Latinum 
GiDsulere, atque omnei metuentem expeadere earns. 
MultDm etiam jatereiit, Didone irata luquatur. 
An pacato aoimu; Libycai ai linquere terraa 
Trajaous paret, eC desertum fallere amotem, 
Sfcviet, ac tola passim bacchabitur urtie, 
Mentis uiopi, immaniE, atiox verba aspera rumpet 
Confosasque dabit vocet, inccrtaque, et ancepi 

D,o, by Google 


How in this Dido is that Dido lost, 

Who late received the Trojans on her coast. 

And bade them banish grief, and share her throne. 

Dismiss their fears, and think her realms their own I 

Next the great orators consult, and thence 
Draw all the moving turns of eloquence : 
That Sinon may his Phrygian foes betray. 
And lead the crowd, as fraud directs the way ; 
That wise Ulysses may the Greeks detain, 
While Troy yet stood, from measuring back the main. 
Need I name Nestor, who could talk to peace. 
With melting words, the factious kings of Greece, 
Whose soft address their fury could control. 
Mold every passion, and subdue the soul? 
These soothing arts to Venus sure were known. 
To beg immortal arms to grace her son ; 
Her injured spouse each thrilling word inspires. 
With every pang of love to second her desires ; 
With nicest art the fair adulteress draws 
Her fond addresses from a distant cause, 

Qu:e quibus anteferat; quantum ahl disUbit ab ilia 
Didone, cxcepit Teucro* qus nuper egentes, 
Solvere corde metum, atque jubeni sedudere curas, 
Invitansque suil vellent considere regnU! 

Nee le onttores pigeat, arlisqae magialros 
ConsuluLsse, Sinon Phrygios quo fallere poaail 
Arte, dolii quocunque animos impellere doclus; 
Quove tenere queat Cliaioa fandi auior Ulysses 
Stanle domum Troja tandem discedere cerlos. 
Quid libi nunc dulcem pne cunctis Nestora dicam, 
Qui toUes inter primores Ai^vorum 
Ingentes poluit verbis componeie lites, 
Et mulcere aniiaos. et mollia fingere corda? 
Artiboi his certe Cytherea instructs, dolisque, 
Arma rogal nato genitrix, et adultera laesum 
Vulcanum alloquitur, dictiique aspirat amorem. 

D,o, by Google 

^ BOCK n 

And aH faer gnSeb] Accents XR des^ned 
To caScti faifi paeons sad cssnaTC bis mind. 
Isfaencx die poet leans in cmt^ pnt 
To liepd the sool, md give widi wandraos «n 
Ailunaamd di&rent notions to the )>e«n ; 
Hencie, as his snliject £Vf or sad jcpfwars. 
He (ianns onr jay or niniBphs in oar tears, 
mm, vfaea be sees bow O^dieos' sorrows tkm. 
Weeps not his teus, and answers woe for woe? 
Whai be his dear Emydice dephnes 
To dte deaf rocks and soUtaiy shores, 
Widi die soft harp the bard refieves his iMin ; 
For tbcc, when morning dawns, prcdov^ itie strain, 
For Ibee, wbcn Phcebns seeks the seas again. 
Or who) die jronng Eaiyahis is killed, 
And loDs in death along the bloody field ; 
Like some fair flower beneath the share he lies, 
His head declined, and drooping as he dies ; 
The reader's soul is touched with generous woe, 
He longs to rush with Nisus on the foe ; 

^un caosas petit ex alto indeprensa, vtrtque 
Circuit occulta verbarum ind*Kine menteni. 
Discitur bine elenim seniui menteique kgentum 
Fl«ctere, divenosqae animis motut dare, ut lllit 
Imperet arte potens, diclu mirabile, vatei. 
Nam seinpeT, seu liela canat, t«u triitia miFreiH, 
AffiEClas implet tacita dulcedine mentei. 
Quern non Tbreicii quondam ton aipera vatii 
Mollial, amissam dum lolo in lillore iccum, 
Eurydice, tolan* Kgrum tettudine amorcm, 
Te, venienle die, te, ilecedeote, vocarel? 
Quid? puer Earyalus cum pulcbroi volvitor attul, 
Ad dolor 1 inque bumcrot lapta cervlce rccumlieni 
Laognescit morieni, ceu flo* lucciiut aralroi 
Aidet adlre animui lectori, et currere in ip«um 

D,o, by Google 


He burns with friendiy pity to the dead, 
To raise the youth, and prop his sinking bead. 
And strives in vain to stop the gushing blood, 
That stains his bosom with a puqile flood. 

But if the bard such images pursues 
That raise the blushes of the virgin muse. 
Let them be slightly touched and ne'er expressed, 
Give but a hint and let us guess the rest. 
If Jove commands the gathering storms to rise. 
And with deep thunders rends the vaulted skies. 
To the same cave together may repair 
The Trojan hero and the Tynan fair — 
The poet's modesty must add no more. 
Enough that Earth had given the sign before. 
The conscious ether was with flames o'erspread, 
The nymphs ran shrieking round the mountain's head. 
Nor let young Troilus, unhappy boy, 
Meet fierce Achilles in the plains of Troy, 
But show the unequal youth's untimely fall 
To great jEneas on the Tynan wall ; 

Vobcentem, puerique manuni supponeie menio 

I^I>eDti, ac lirgaiD rcostra probibere cruorem 

Purpureo niveum signantem flumine pectus. i 

Postremo, tibi siqua instant dicenda, mliorem 
Qua: tenerum incutereni Musis adaperta, chotisque 
Virgineis, molli vel prxteclabere tactu 
Dissimutans, vel verte alios, et rem suffice fictam. 
Si paler omnipoteni tonitra ccelum omne ciebit, i 

Speluncam Dido, dux et Trojanus eandem 
Deveniant ; pudor ullerius nihil addere curet. 
Nam sat erit, Tellus quod prima, et conicias lEther 
Connubii dent signum, ululentque in vertice Nymphx. 
Neve aliis, impar nimiura, ne Troilu* annis i 

Ah I puei infelix facilo concurrat Achilli, 
Quam quibus in Libyco conspeiit littote picliun 

D,o, by Google 

^>H] BOOK H. 

Supine and hanging from his empty car. 
Dragged by his pantii^ coursers through the war. 
Thus from our bright examples you may trace. 
To write with judgment, decency, and grace ; 
From others learn Invention to increase. 
And search in chief the glorious sons of Greece ; 
For her bright treasures Argos' realms explore, 
Bring home triumphant all her gathered store. 
And with her spoils enrich the Latian shore. 
Nor is the glory of translation less, 
To give the Grecian bards a Roman dress — 
If Phoebus' gracious smiles the labor crown — 
Than if some new invention were your own. 
Mincio's and Manto's glorious son behold. 
The immortal Virgil, sheathed in foreign gold, 
Shines out unshamed, and towers above the rest, 
In the rich spoils of godlilte Homer dressed. 
Let Greece in triumph boast that she imparts 
To Latium's conquering realms her glorious arts. 

Ilium AnchisiadM herot, dum victui anhelii 
Fertia equii, cunuque heeret tejupinu* inani : 
Nee paeri veroi congrewiu dicete cxuet. 
Quid deceat, qiud dod, tibi nostri oitendere poMunt; 
InvenU. ei aJiis disce, el te plurima Achivoi 
Consuleie hortamur Vetera, Argivaque regna 
Explorare oculis, et opimam avertere gazam 
In Latium, atque damuni l^am ipolia ampla rererre. 
Hand minor est adeo virtui, li te audit Apollo, 
iDventa ArgitTun in patriam convertcie vocem, 
Quain li lute aliquid intactum invenetii ante. 
Aspice ut insignii pcregiino incedat in auTO 
Fatidtcae Mantu*. el Minci liliui a^nnii'. 
Folgeat nt magni exuviai indutui Homeri! 
Nee pndet, Egregiai artei oMendetit, etto, 
Grxcia, tiadiderit Lalio piarclara repeda, 
Dum poft in melitu aliunde accepta Latioi 

D,o, by Google 


While Latium's sons improve her best designs, 
Till by degrees each polished labor shines, 
While Rome advances now in arts, as far 
Above all cities, as of old in war. 

Ye gods of Rome, ye guardian deities, 
Who lift our nation's glory to the skies, 
And thou, Apollo, the great source of Troy, 
Let Rome at least this single palm enjoy. 
To shine in arts supreme, as once in power, 
And teach the nations she subdued before. 
Since discord all Ausonia's kings alarms. 
And clouds the ancient glories of her arms. 
In our own breasts we sheath the civil sword. 
Our country naked to a foreign lord ; 
Which lately, prostrate, started from despair. 
Burned with new hopes, and armed her hands for n 
But armed in vain. The inexorable hate 
Of envious Fortune called her to her fate ; 
Insatiate in her rage, her frowns oppose 
The Latian fame, and woes are heaped on woes. 

Omnia reltnlerint, dum longe mucinia Roma 
Ut belli studiis, ita doctis aitibuj omnes, 
Quot Sol cunque videt temtuin, anteiverit urbes. 
Dii Ronue indigetes, Ttojae tuque autor, Apollo, 
Unde genua nostrum cteli se tollit ad asira, 
Hanc saltern auferri laudem prohibele LaCinis; 
Artibus emineat semper, studiisque Minervx 
Italia, et gentes doceat pulcherrima Roma ; 
Quandoquidem armoruin penitus fortuna recessit, 
Tanla Ilalos inter ctevit discordia leges. 
Ip^ nos inter scevos distringimus enses, 
Nee patriam pudet extemis apetire tyrannii. 
Spes tamen Italbe prostrate afTulserat ingeiu 
Nupet. et egregiis animos ecexeiat ausis : 
Heu frustra! Invidil laudi fors licva Latin^e, 

D,o, by Google 


Our dread alarms each foreign monarch took, 
Through all their tribes the distant nations shook. 
To Elaith's last bounds the fame of Leo runs : 
Nile heard, and Indus trembled for his sons, 
Arabia heard the Medicean line. 
The first of men, and sprung from race divine. 
The sovereign priest, and mitred king, appears 
With his loved Julius joined, who kindly shares 
The reins of empire and the public cares ; 
To break their country's chains, the generous pair 
Concert their schemes and meditate the war. 
On Leo Europe's monarchs turn their eyes, 
On him atone the western world relies, 
And each bold chief attends his dread alarms. 
While the proud crescent fades before his arms. 
High on his splendid car, immortal Rome, 
Thine eyes had seen the holy warrior come, 
Lord of the vanquished world, in triumph home; 

Necdiun faU nialis Italum eialurata qoieruat. 
Jam gentes longe posit^c trepidace, ducesque 
EJcterni: jam dives Arabs, jani Nilus, et Indus 
Audierant longe Tuscj decora, alia Leonis, 
Audierant Medkumque genus, stirpemque Deoruni; 
Jam lum ille egregias curas accinxecat ardens 
Pro paliiiie decore, pro libertate sepulta 
Antiques Ausonix, getmano ftetus lulo, 
Quicum partitua curarum ingentia semper 
Pondera commissas retiun tractabat habenas 
Idem regnalorque hominum, Divumque sacerdos. 
Jamque illmn Europx reges, gensque omnis in unum 
Conversiquc ociUos, converaique ora tenebant: 
Jamque duces *aniniis itlum concordibus omnes 
Velle sequi trepidos in Turcas anna parantem. 
Ilium quadrijogo invectum per roixnia curru, 
Roma, trinmphato vidisses protinus orbe: 
lUum, Tybd pater, Ixtanti spumeus alveo 

D,o, by Google 


Thy streams, old Tiber, swelled with conscious pride. 
Had borne thy kindred warrior down thy tide. 
While, crowded up in heaps, tliy waves admire 
The captive nations, and their strange attire. 
Behind his wheeb should match a numerous train 
Of sceptred slaves, reluctant to the chain. 
Forget their haughty threats, and boast in vain; 
Though the proud foe, of Jewry's realm possessed. 
Has spread his wide dominion through the East, 
Sees his dread standard there at large unfurled, 
And grasps in thought the empire of the world, 
And now, ye gods ! increased in barbarous power. 
His armies hover o'er the Hesperian shore. 
To see the passing pomp, the ravished throng 
Through every street should flow In tides along ; 
The sacred father, as the numbers rolled, 
Should his dear citizens again behold. 
High o'er the shouting crowds enthroned in gold ; 
9iouId show the trophies of his glorious toils. 
And hang the shrines with consecrated spoils ; 
Piles of barbaric gold should glitter there, 
The wealth of kingdoms and the pomp of war. 

Exciperes, Tuscos Tuscum, vehetesqae pet undas 
Miratas habilusque dovos, hoDiinumque tiguias. 
Issent post cumu capti longo ordine reges : 
Oblilusque minas minoc iret barbarus hoslis, « 

Qui viclil Solymis nunc, atque oriente suhacto 
Exultat lidens, otbbqae alTectal habenas 
KfTeras, atque ItaLc jam jam, scelus! iniminet otn;, 
Viscndi studio passim Romana juvenlui 
Per fora, perque vias, festa discurretct ucbe. 
Ipse tuos solio fulgens pater aureus alto 
Aspicerat civcs longo post tempore visos; 
Barbaricunique aanim, pnedaeqne juberet acervos 
Sacratji adytis, peuitusque alta arce reponi. 

D,o, by Google 

But, by your crime, ye gods, our hopes are crossed, 

And those imaginary triumphs lost ; 
Interred with Leo, in one fatal hour 
Our prospects perished, as they lived before. 

Verum heu 1 Dii> vestrum crimen 1 spcs Unta repente 
Italife absumpla, ac penitus liducm cesail '. 
Egregiiu motiens bttoa aecum omnia vertit! 

D,o, by Google 



WHAT style, what language, suits the poet's lays, 
To claim Apollo's and the Muses' praise, 
I now unfold. To this last bound I tend. 
And see my promised labors at an end. 
First then, with care a just expression choose, 
Led by the kind indulgence of the Muse 
To dress up every subject when you write. 
And set all objects in a proper l^ht. 
But lest the distant prospect of the goal 
Should damp your vigor and your strength control, 
Rouse every power, and call forth all the soul. 
See how the Nine the panting youth invite. 
With one loud voice to reach Parnassus' height ! 
See how they hold aloft the immortal crown, 
To urge the course, and call the victor on ! 
See from the clouds each lavish goddess pours. 
Full o'er thy head, a sudden spring of flowers, 
And roses fall in odoriferous showers ; 

NUNC autem lingua studium, moremque loquendi, 
Quem vates, Musxque prub«nt, atque autor Apollu, 
Expediam, cucam extremam, tinemque laborum. 
Discendum indicia, et verbornin lamina qua: sint 
Munere Fleridum lusttandis addita rebus. 
Ne te, opere incteplo, deteireal ardui mela; 
Audendum, puer. atque invicto pectoie agendum. 
Jam te Pierides summa en ', de rupe propinquum 
Voce vocant. viridique ostentani fionde caronam 
Victori, atque animn stimulos hoctatibus addunt. 
Jamque rosas calathis spargunt pec nubila plenis 
Deiuper, el florum placido te plurima nimbo 

D,o, by Google 

28] BOOK III. 

Celestial scents in balmy breezes fly. 
And shed ambrosial spirits from the sky ! 

In chief, avoid obscurity, nor shroud 
Your thoughts and dark conceptions in a cloud ; 
For some, we know, affect to shun the light. 
Lost in forced figures and involved in night ; 
Studious and bent to leave the common way. 
They skulk in darkness and abhor the day. 
Oh, may the sacred Nine inspire my lays 
To shine with pride in their own native rays ! 
For this we need not importune the skies — 
In our own power and will the blessing lies. 
Expression, boundless in extent, displays 
A thousand forms, a thousand several ways ; 
In different garbs from different quarters brought, 
It makes unnumbered dresses for a thought — 
Such vast varieties of hues we find 
To paint conception, and unfold the mind ! 
If e'er you toil, but toil without success, 
To give your images a shining dress, 

Tempestas operil, giatumque efTiuos odorem 
Ambrosia liquor aspicat, divina voluptas. 

VerbOFum in primis tenebras fuge, nubilaque atra; 
Nam neque (si tantum fas credere) defuil olim, 
Qui, lumen jucundum ullro, lucemque perogus, 
Obscuro nebuke se circumfudit amictu; 
Tantus amor noctis, latebca^ tarn dira cupido. 
Ille ego sim, cui Pierides dent carmina Masse 
Lumine clara suo, extertiEe nihil indiga lucis. 
Nee tamen id votis opCandum denique magnis: 
Ipse volens per te poteiis; vis Dsedala fandi 
Tot se adeo in fades, tot se convectit in ora, 
Mille trahens varia secum ratione colores. 
Mille modis aperite datuc mentisque latebras, 
Quique latent tacito arcani sub pectore motus. 
Si fibi, dum trepidas, non hac successerit, et lux 

D,o, by Google 


Quit your pursuit and choose a different way, 

Till, breaking forth, the voluntary ray 

Cuts the thick darkness and lets down the day. 

Since then a thousand forms you may pursue, 
A thousand figures rising to the view. 
Unless confined and straitened in your scheme. 
With the short limits of a scanty theme. 
From these to those with boundless freedom pass. 
And to each image give a different face ; 
The readers hence a wondrous pleasure find. 
That charms the ear and captivates the mind. 
In this the laws of Nature we obey. 
And act as her example points the way, 
Which has on every different species thrown 
A shape distinct, and figure of its own ; 
Man differs from the beast that haunts the woods, 
The bird from every native of the floods. 

See how the poet banishes with grace 
A native term to give a stranger place ! 

Non datur hinc, le verie alio, lumenque reqnire 
Nunc hac, nunc iliac, donee difTulseriC ultra, 
Claraque tempestas ccelo radiarit aperto. 

Quin eCiajD, anguaCis si non uigebere rebus, 
Cum fandi tibi mille vix, tibi mille figura: 
Occiurent, tu milU vias, tu mille Hguras, 
Nunc hanc, nunc aliam iogredere, et mutare memento, 
Jamque boa jamque aboa baud aegnis sumeie vultus. 
Nempe inde illectas aurea immensa voluptas 
Detinet, et dulci pertentat pectura motu. 
Ergo omnem curam impendunt, ut cernere nuaquam 
Sit formaa similea, nalurx exempla aequuti, 
Oissimili quod aint facie quxcunque sub astris 
Vitalea caq)unt auias, genus omne ferarum 
Atque hominum, pictie volucrea, mutsque natantes. 

Nonne vides, verbis ut vecia sicpe relictis 


From different images with just success 

He clothes his matter in the borrowed dress ; 

The borrowed dress the things themselves admire. 

And wonder whence they drew the strange attire ; 

Proud of their ravished spoils, they now disclaim 

TTieir former color and their genuine name, 

And, in another garb more beauteous grown. 

Prefer the foreign habit to their own. 

Oft as he paints a battle on the plain. 

The battle's imaged by the roaring main ; 

Now he the fight a fiery deluge names. 

That pours along the fields a flood of flames ; 

In airy conflict now the winds appear. 

Alarm the deeps and wage the stormy war; 

To the fierce shock the embattled tempests pour. 

Waves charge on waves, the encountering billows roar. 

Thus in a varied dress the subject shines ; 

By turns the objects shift their proper signs ; 

From shape to shape alternately they run. 

To borrow others' charms, and lend their own ; 

AccersanI simulata, aliundcque nomina porro 
Ttansportent, aptentque aliis ea rebu9, ut ipsse 
Exuviasque novas, tea insoliCosque colores 
Indutae scpe externi mtrentur amictus 
Unde illi, laelaeque aliena luce ftuantur, 
Mutatoque hahitu, nee jam sua nomina mallent? 
Si^pe ideo, cum bella csnunt, incendia crcdas 
Cemete, diluviumque ingens, surgentibus undis. 
Contia etiam Maitia pugnas imitabjtur ignis, 
Cam furit accensis acies Vukania campis. 
Nee turbato orilur quondam minor lequore pugna; 
Contligunt animosi Euci ceitamine vasto 
Inter se, pugnantque adversis molibus undc?. 
Usque adeo passim sua res insignia kets 
Fennatantque. juvantque vicissim, et mutua seie 
Altera in alteiius tcansformat protinus ora. 

D,o, by Google 


Pleased with the borrowed charms, the readers find 

A crowd of different images combined 

Rise from a single object to the mind. 

So the pleased traveler from a mountain's brow 

Views the calm surface of the seas below ; 

Though wide beneath the floating ocean lies 

The first immediate object of his eyes. 

He sees the forests tremble from within, 

And gliding meadows paint the deeps with green. 

While to his eyes the fair delusions pass 

In gay succession through the watery glass. 

'Tis thus the bard diversifies his song ; 

Now here, now there, he calls the soul along ; 

The rich variety he sets to sight 

Cloys not the mind, but adds to our delight. 

Now with a frugal choice the bard affords 

The strongest light and energy of words ; 

While humble subjects he contrives to raise 

With borrowed splendors and a foreign blaze. 

This, if on old tradition we rely, 

Was once the current language of the sky, 

Tuin specie capti gaudent spectare legenln; 

Nam di versa simul datur e re cernere eadem 

Multarum simulachra animo subeuntia terum. 

Ceu cum forte olim placidi liquidissima ponti 

iEquora vicina aspectat de rupe viator, 

Tantum ill! subjecta oculis est mobllis unita; 

llle tomen sylvas, interque virentia prata 

Inspicietis miratur, aqufe quie purior humor 

Cuncta tefert, captosque eludit imagine visus. 

Non aliter vates nunc hue traducere mentes. 

Nunc illuc, animisque legentum apponeie gaudet 

Divenas rerum species, dum tsedia vital. 

Res humiles ille interea non secius efTert, 

Splendors illustrans alieno, et lumine vestit, 

Verborumque simul viCat djspendia pacctis. 

D,o, by Google 


Which first the Muses brought to these abodes, 
Who taught mankind the secrets of the gods ; 
For in the court of Jove their choirs advance, 
And sing alternate, as they lead the dance. 
Mixed with the gods ; they hear Apollo's lyre. 
And from high Heaven the panting bard inspire. 
Nor bards alone, but other writers reach 
This bold, this daring privilege of speech ; 
In chief the orators, to raise their sense. 
In this strong figure dress their eloquence, 
When with persuasive strokes they plead a cause. 
And bridle vice, and vindicate the laws ; 
Or on the dreadful verge of death defend, 
And snatch from fate, a poor devoted friend. 
Even the rough hinds delight in such a strain, 
When the glad harvest waves with golden grain, 
And thirsty meadows drink the pearly rain ; 
On the proud vine her purple gems appear, 

HuDC fandi moiem, si vera audivimus, ipsi 
CsIicoLe exercent c<£li in penetralibus altis, 
Fieridum chorus in terras queni detulit olim, 
Atque hominei docuere Deum prxclaca reperta. 
like etenim Juvis xlberea dicuntut in aula 
Immixtx Superis festas agitare choreas, 
£t semper caneie alternx, Ph<xbique fruunlur 
Colloquio, vatumque inspirant pectora ab alto. 
Nee tamen baud solis fugit hxc me nola poetis, 
Verum eliam autorea alii experiuntur, et audent, 
Frxcipue orantes causas, fandiquc magistri, 
Sen sontes tendant legum compescere habenia, 
Seu caros cupiant itris e mortis amicos 
Faucibus eripere, et deHetos reddere luci. 
Quin etiam a^icolas ea fandi aota voluptas 
Eiercil, dum Iseta seges, dum ttudere gemmas 
Incipiunl vites, sitientiaque eetheris imbrem 

D,o, by Google 


The smiling fields rejoice, and hail the pregnant year. 

First from necessity the figure sprung ; 

For things that would not suit our scanty tongue, 

When no true names were offered to the view, 

Those they transferred that bordered on the true ; 

Thence by degrees the noble license grew ; 

The bards those daring liberties embraced, 

Through want at first, through luxury at last ; 

They now to alien things, at will, confirm 

The borrowed honors of a foreign term. 

So man, at first, the rattling storm to fly, 

And the bleak horrors of the wintry sky. 

Raised up a roof of osiers o'er his head. 

And closed with homely clay the slender shed j 

Now regal palaces of wondrous size. 

With brazen beams, on Parian columns rise 

That heave the pompous fabric to the skies. 

But other writers sprinkle here and there 

These bolder beauties with a frugal care ; 

So vast a freedom is allowed to none, 

Pr»t» bibuni, ridentijue, satis sutgenlibus, agri. 
Hanc vulgo speciem pcopriie penuria vocis 
Intulit, inijictistjue urgens in rebus egesCas. 
Quippe, ubi se vera ostendebant tiomina nusquam. 
Fas erat hinc atque bine transferre simillima veris. 
Paulatim acerevete artes, bominumque libido: 
Quodque olim usue inopa reperit, nunc ipsa voluptas 
PostulaC, hunc addena verbotum rebus bonorcm. 
Sic homines primum venti vis aspeta adegit, 
Vitandique imbies. stipuHs horcenlia tecta 
Ponere, et informi sedem arctam claudere linio: 
Nunc allEE xratis tiabibus. Pariisque columnis 
Regifico surgunt xdtt aA sidera Imu. 
Paccins ista tamen dclibant, et minus audent 
Artifices alii, nee tanta licenlia fandi 
Caique datur, soils vulgo concessa poetisi 

D,o, by Google 

-122] BOOK ni. 

But suits the labors of the bard alone. 
Who in the laws of verse himself restrains. 
Tied up to time in voluntary chains. 
Others, by no restraint or stop withheld, 
May range the compass of a wider field ; 
The sacred poets, who their labors fill 
With pleasing fictions, or with truths at will, 
Their thoughts in bolder liberties express. 
Which look more beauteous in a foreign dress. 
To all, unusual colors they impart. 
Nor blush if e'er detected in their art. 

Sometimes beyond the bounds of truth they fly, 
And boldly lift their subject to the sky. 
When with tumultuous shouts the Heavens rebound. 
And all Olympus trembles with the sound ; 
Or with repeated accents they relate 
The fall of Troy, and dwell upon her fate : 
'Oh sire ! Oh country, once with glory crowned ! 
Oh wretched race of Priam, once renowned ! 
Oh Jove ! see Dion smoking on the ground ! ' 

They now name Ceres for the golden grain, 

Nempe pedum hi dutis cohibentur legibus, et ae 
Spante sua apitiis anguati temporis arctntit; 
Liberius fas campum aliis decuirere apertum. 
Sacii igitur vales, facta atque infecU canentes, 
Libertale palam gaudent majore loquendi. 
QuKsilique decent cultus magis, atque colores 
Insoliti, nee crit la.iita ars deprensa pudori. 

Crebrius hi fando gaudent super astheia miris 
Tollere res (nee sil fas tantum credere) dictis; 
II ccdo clamor, tremit omnis murmure Olympus. 
Nee mora, bis vocem ingeminant, urbiaque ruin as, 
Fataque, prxliaque, et soitem execrantur iniquam, 
O pater! a patria! a Priami diimus inclyta quondam! 
Qamantes, cecidit, pro Jupiter! Ilion ingens. 

D,o, by Google 


Bacchus for wine, and Neptune for the main ; 
Or from the father's name point out the son ; 
Or for her people introduce a town ; 
So when alarmed her natives dread their fates, 
Pale Afric shakes, and trembles through her states ; 
And some, by Acheloiis' streams alone. 
Comprise the floods of all the world in one. 

Lo ! now they start aside, and change the strain 
To fancied converse with an absent swain ; 
To grots and caverns all their cares disclose. 
Or tell the solitary rocks their woes ; 
To scenes inanimate proclaim their love, 
Talk with a hill, or whisper to a grove. 
On you they call, ye unattentive woods. 
And wait an answer from your bordeiing floods. 

Sometimes they speak one thing, but leave behind 
Another secret meaning in the mind ; 
A fair expression artfully dispense. 
But use a word that clashes with the sense : 

Quid cum Neptunum dicunt mare, vina Lysora, 
Et Cererem friimenta, pa.trDmque e nomine natos 
SigniRcant, memarantque urbes pto civibus ipsis? 
Atque ideo timor attonitOB cum invaserit Afros, 
Africa, terribili tiemit hoiiida teira. (umultu. 
Nee deerit tibi, pro fluviis, proque omnibus nndis 
Focula, qui pressis Acheloia misceat uvis. 

S!ept aliquem longe Bbsentem, desertaque et antra, 
Et soIds nianteG afTaotur, sa^e salutaut 
Sylvasque fluviasque, et agros, sensuquc carentn 
Speluncas, velut faxc sint responsnra vocata, 
Et vos o vtcui compellant nomine saltus. 
Pneterea verbis inimicos addeie sensus 
Oppodtts, dum dissimulant, aliudque videliis 
Sspe loqui, atque aliud Mmnlata condere mente. 
Egiegia inteiea conjux ila nocte suprema 

D,o, by Google 

Thus pious Helen stole the faithful sword. 
While Troy was flaming, from her sleeiung lord ; 
So glorious Drances towered amid the plain, 
And piled the ground with mountains of the slain, 
Immortal trophies raised from squadrons killed. 
And with vast spoils ennobled all the field. 

But now to mention 5uther I forbear. 
With what strong charms they captivate the ear. 
When the same terms they happily repeat. 
The same repeated seem more soft and sweei : 
This, were Arcadia judge, if Pan withstood, 
Fan's judge, Arcadia, would condemn her god. 

But though our fond indulgence grants the Muse 
A thousand liberties in different views. 
Whene'er you choose an image to express 
In foreign terms, and scorn the native dress ; 
Vet be discreet, nor strain the point loo far, 
Let the transition still unforced appear, 
Nor e'er discover an excess of care. 
For some, we know, with awkward violence 
Distort the subject and disjoint the sense, 

Deiphobo Eidum capiti subduxetat enKm. 

Nee minui insignis Dnncei cum ttragii acervoi 

Tot dedit, et claria insigniit arva trophxii. 

Quid aequar ulterius, quanta dulccdine capUi 
Oetineant aures, vocem cam rursus eandem 
Ingeminant, modo noD verborum cogat eg»tai? 
Pan etiajn Arcadia negel hoc >i judice pRcteni, 
Pan, etiam Arcadia dicam le judice vanom. 

Hxc adeo cum aint, cum la» aud«re poetit 
Multa modis multis, tamen obiecvare memento. 
Si quando baud propiiii rem mavis dicere verbil, 
TraniUtisque aliunde nolii, longeque pctitU, 
Ne nimiam ostendai quxrendo talis curam. 
Namque aliqui eieiccnt vim duiam, el rebui inlqni 

D,o, by Google 


Quite change the genuine figure, and deface 
The native shape with every livmg grace, 
And force unwilUng objects to put on 
An ahen face and features not their own. 
A low conceit in disproportioned terms 
Looks like a boy dressed up in giant's arras : 
Blind to the truth, all reason they exceed 
Who name a stall the palace of the steed. 
Or grass, the tresses of great Rhea's head. 
'Tis best sometimes an image to express 
In its own colors and its native dress, 
The genuine words with happy care to use. 
If nicely culled and worthy of the Muse. 

Some things alternately compared are shown. 
Both names still true, and mutually their own — 
But here the least redundance you must shun ; 
Tell us, in short, from whence the hint you drew. 
And set the whole comparison to view. 
Lest, mindless of your first design, you seem 
To lead the mind away, and rove from theme to theme. 

Nativam eripJunt fortnnm, indignantihus ipsis, 

Invitasque julient alienos sumece vultua. l 

Haud magis imprudens mihi erit, et luminis expera, 

Qui pueru ingentes habitus deC feiie gigantis, 

Quam si quis stabula alto, laiea appellet eqiiinns, 

Aut crines magn^c genitricis graitiina dical. 

PrEStiterit vero faciem spilla et sua cuique 1 

Linquere, et interdum propriis rem prodere verbis, 

Iniliciisque sui9, ea sint modo digna Camcenis, 

Res etiam poteris rebus conferre vicissim, 
Nominibusque ambas vcrisqne suisque vocare; 
Quod facicns, fuge verborum dispendia, paucisque 1 

Includas numeris, unde ilia simillima imago 
Ducitur, et breviter confer, ne forte priorum 
Oblitos sermonum alio traducere mentem, 
Tuque alia ex aliis viiteare exordia labi. 

D,o, by Google 

.186] BOOK III. 

But now pursue the method that affords 
The fittest terms and wisest choice of words. 
Not all deserve alike the same regard, 
Nor suit the godlike labors of the bard ; 
For words as much may differ in degree 
As the most various kinds of poetry. 
Though many a common term and word we find 
Dispersed promiscuously through every kind. 
Those that will never suit the heroic rage 
Might grace the buskin and become the stage. 
Their large, their vast variety explore 
With piercing eyes, and range the mighty store. 
From their deep fund the richest words unfold, 
With nicest care be rich expression culled, 
To deck your numbers in the purest gold ; 
The vile, the dark degenerate crowd refuse. 
And scorn a dress that would disgrace the Muse. 
Then, to succeed your search, pursue the road. 

And beat the track the glorious ancients trod ; 

Jamque age vetborum qui sit delectus habendos, 
Qu^ ratio: nam nee sunt omnia versibus apta., 
Omnia nee paciter tibi sunt uno ordinc habenda. 
Versibus ipsa eCiam divisa, et carmina quantum 
Carminibus distant, tantum distantia verba 
Sunt etiam inter se. quamvis communia multa 
Interdiuu inveniea versus diffusa pet omnes. 
Multa decent scenam, <\ax sunt fugienda canenti 
Aut Divum laudes, aul heraum inclyta facta. 
Ergo alte vestiga oculis, aciemcjue voluta 
Verborum sylva in magna: turn accommoda Musis 
Selige, et insignes vocum depascere honores, 
Ut nitidus puro versus tibi fulgeat auro. 
Rejice degenerem turbam nil lucis habentem, 
Indecoresque notas, ne sit non digna supellei. 

Qui fieri id possil veCerum te semila vatum 
Obseivata docebit: adi monumenta priorum 

D,o, by Google 


To those eternal monuments repair, 
There read, and meditate forever there. 
If o'er the rest some mighty genius shines, 
Mark the sweet charms and vigor of his lines; 
As far as Phcebus aud the heavenly powers 
Smile on your labors, make his diction yours, 
Your style by his authentic standard frame, 
Your voice, your habit and address, the same. 
With him proceed to cull the rest, for there 
A fall reward will justify your care ; 
Examine all, and bring from all away 
Their various treasures as a lawfiil prey. 
Nor would I scruple, with a due regard. 
To read sometimes a rude unpolished bard. 
Among whose labors I may find a line. 
Which from unsightly rust I may refine, 
And, with a better grace, adopt it into mine. 
How often may we see a troubled flood 
Stained with unsettled ooze and rising mud, 

Crebca oculia animoque legens, et inulta volnta. 
Turn quamvis, longe siquis Eupereminet omnei, 
Virtutem ex illo, ac rationem discere fandi 
Te jubeam, cui cotitendas te teddere semper 
Assimilem, atque habitus giessusque effingcre euntis, 
Quantum fata sinunt, et non aversus Apollo : 
Haud tamen interea reliquum explotare labores 
Abstiteris vatum, moneo, suspectaque dicta 
Sublegere, el variam ex cunctis abducete gazam. 
Nee dubilem veraus hicsuti sxpe poetK 
Suspensus lustrare, et vesligare legendo, 
Sicubi se qmedam forte inter cotnmoda versH 
Dicta meo ostendant, qua: mox inelioribus ipse 
Auspiciis pcoprios possim mihi verteie in uiui, 
Detersa prorsus prisca rubigine scabra. 
Flumina s:epe vides immuudo tuibida limo; 

D,o, by Google 

Which, if a well the bordering natives sink, 
Supplies the thirsty multitude with drink ; 
llie trickhng stream by just degrees refines. 
Till in its course the limpid current shines, 
And, taught through secret labyrinths to flow. 
Works itself clear among the sands below. 
For nothing looks so gloomy, but will shine 
From proper care and timely discipline ; 
If, with due vigilance and conduct, wrought 
Deep in the soul, it labors in the thought. 
Hence on the ancients we must rest alone. 
And make their golden sentences our own ; 
To cull their best expressions claims our cares. 
To form our notions and our styles on theirs. 
See how we bear away their precious spoils, 
And with the glorious dress enrich our styles. 
Their bright inventions for our use convey. 
Bring all the spirit of their words away, 
And make their words themselves our lawful prey 1 
Unshamed in other colors to be shown. 
We speak our thoughts in accents not our own. 
But your design with modest caution weigh, 

Haurit aquam tamen inde frequeni concaniu, et litii 

Important puteis ad pocula, desuper ilia 

Occullis dilTuja canalibus inHuit, omnemqae 

Illabens bibulas labem exuit inter arenai. 

Nil adeo incultum, quod non splendescere pouit: 

Pnecipue si cuta vigil non deiit, el uique 

Mente premat, multumque animo tecum ipse volutes. 

Discendum, quorum depascimui aurea dicta, 

PriEcipuamqae avidi rerum popuUmu* honorem. 

Aspice ut exuvias vetetumque insignia nobis 

Aptemui: rerum accipimus nunc claia repeita. 

Nunc seriem atque animuoi veiborum, vertn qnoque ipsa: 

D,o, by Google 


Steal with due care, and meditate the prey, 
Invert the order of the words with art, 
And change their former site in every part. 
Thus win your readers, thus deceive with grace. 
And let the expression wear a different face ; 
Yourself at last, the glorious labor done, 
Will scarce discern his diction from your own. 
Some, to appear of diffidence bereft. 
Steal in broad day, and glory in the theft, 
When with just art, design and confidence. 
On the same words they graft a different sense, 
Preserve the unvaried terms and order too. 
But change their former spirit for a new, 
Or, with the sense of emulation bold, 
With ancient bards a glorious contest hold ; 
Their richest spoils triumphant they explore. 
Which, ranged with better grace, they varnish o'er. 
And give them charms they never knew before. 
So trees that change their soils more proudly rise. 
And lift their spreading honors to the skies ; 

Nee pudet internum alteiius nos ore loquutos. 
Cum vero cullia moliris furta poelis, 
Caotius ingtedere, el raptus memor occule verws 
Verboium indiciis, atque ocitine falle legentes 
Mutato : nova sit facies, nova prorsus imago. 
Munere (nee longum tempus) vix ipse peracto 
Dicta recognosces veteris mulata poetae, 
Siepe palani quidam rapiunt, cupiunique videri 
Omnibus intrepidi, ac furlo leetantur in ipso 
Deprensi: seu cum dictis, nihil ordine verso, 
Longe alios iiadem sensus mira arte dedete, 
Exueiuntque animos veiborum impune priotes: 
Seu cum cerlandi priscis succensa libido; 
Et possessa diu, sed enim male condita, victls 
Extoiquere mann juvat, in meliusque referre: 
Cen fata muCatoque solo felicius olim 

D,o, by Google 

«8] BOOK III. 13 

And, when transplanted, nobler fruits produce, 
Exalt their nature, and ferment their juice. 
So Troy's famed chief the Asian empire bore. 
With better omens, to the Latian shore. 
Though from thy realm, O Dido, to the sea 
Called by the gods reluctantly away. 
Nor the first nuptial pleasures could control 
l"he fixed, the stubborn purpose of his soul. 
Unhappy queen ! thy woes suppressed thy breath ; 
Thy cares pursued thee, and survived in death ; 
Had not the Dardao fleet thy kingdom sought. 
Thy life had shone unsullied with a fault. 

Come then, ye youths, and urge your generous toils j 
Come, strip the ancients, and divide the spoils 
Your hands have won — bat shon the fanlt of sach 
Who with fond rashness tmst themsehres too moch. 
For some we know, who, by their pride betrayed. 
With vain ccmtempt reject a (iTragn aid. 
Who scorn those great examples to obey, 

Cerannu ad takim tcimlatia surgere planlM. 
pMna qooqne ntilim incco* oblita prioiem 
Proveniiml; lie tefpia Ana% Tir^ajae peutes 
Transtnlit, aoipiciis PbryKiiB melionbo* herot Z 

In Latium, qnamvis (nam Divntn bta *ocabant) 
Inviliia, Ph'xniMa, luo <te iictoie ccnit. 
Nee connahia Iteta, nee increpli FlymcTuei 
Flexenint immiteTn animum : tu vicia dnlore 
Occiitis, et curx vii ip«a in morte relinqiiunl. v 

Samriaaxn n !>ar<\anvt tetigjssent veMra carince 
Littora, tnrs nulli poteraa suecumbere colpic. 
Ergo ajfite a mecnm securi accingite furtii 
Una omnes, paeri, pasmtniue avertite pRFdam. 
Infelix aulem ffiuidara nam «epe reperti) > 

Virihut ip«e guis temere i]ui ItRus, et arti, 
Extemsc quasi npii nihil inrfi|;us, aKncg^t andax 
Fida iciui wtenira vestigia, ifum sihi praeila 

D,o, by Google 


Nor follow where the ancients point the way. 
While from the theft their cautious hands refrain. 
Vain are their fears, their superstition vain. 
Nor Phcebus' smiles the unhappy poet crown ; 
The fate of all his works prevents his own. 
Himself his moldering monument survives, 
And sees his labors perish while he lives ; 
His fame is more contracted than his span, 
And the frail author dies before the man. 
How would he wish the labor to forbear, 
And follow other arts with more successful care? 

I like a fair allusion nicely wrought, 
When the same words express a different thought ; 
And such a theft true critics date not blame, 
Which late posterity shall crown with fame ; 
Void of all fear, of every doubt bereft, 
I would not blush, but triumph in the theft. 
Nor on the ancients for the whole rely, 
The whole is more than all their works supply; 

Temperat hcul nimium, atqiie alienia paccere crevit 
(Vans superatitio!) Phncbi sine nunune cuca. 
Hand longum tales ideo Letantur. et ipsi 
Sfepe suis supetant monumentis, illaudalique 
Extremum ante diem foetns flevere caducos, 
Vivenlesqae suie viderunt funera. fanue. 
Quani cupecent vano potius caruisse labore, 
Eque suis alias djdicisse parentibus artes! 

Sspe milii placet antiquts alludeie diclis, 
Atquc aiiud longe verbis ptoferre sub iisdem ; 
Nee mea tam sapiens per sese prodita quisquam 
Kuila redarguerit, qux mox matiifesta probabunt 
Et nati natotum, et qui nascentur ab illis: 
Tantum absil, prena^ nietuena infamia ut ipse 
Furta velim tegere, atque meaa celare rapinas. 
Non tamen omnia te priscis fas tidere, qui non 
Omnia sufticicnt: quserenti pauca labore 

D,o, by Google 

-280] BOOK in. 

Some things your own invention must explore, 
Some virgin images untouched before. 

New terms no laws forbid us to induce, 
To coin a word, and sanctify to use ; 
But yet admit no words into the song. 
Unless they prove the stock from whence they sprung. 
Point out their family, their kindred trace. 
And set to view the series of their race. 
But where you find your native tongue too poor. 
Transport the riches of the Grecian store ; 
Inform the lump, and work it into grace, 
And with new life inspire the unwieldy mass ; 
Till, changed by discipline, the word puts on 
A foreign nature, and forgets its own. 
So I^tium's language found a rich increase. 
And grew and flourished from the wealth of Greece ; 
Till use in lime had rilled Argos' stores 
And brought all Athens to the Hesperian shores. 
How many words from rich Mycenie come, 
Of Greek extraction, in the dregs of Rome, 
That live with outs, our rights and freedom claim, 
Attenlanda tuo, nondum ulli audita, supersunt. 

No» etiam quasiiam idcirco nova condere nulla 
Relltgio vetat, indictasque effundece voces. 
Ne vero hcec penitus fuerint ignota, suumque 
Agnoacant genus, et cognolani ostendere gentem 
Possint, ac stirpis nitantnc origine cerlxe. 
Usque adeo patriie tibi si penuiia vocis 
ObatabiC, fas Giajugenum felicibus oris 
Devehere infonnem massam, quam incude Latina 
Informans pitrium jnbeas dediscere morein. 
Sic quondam Aosonix succrevit copia linguae: 
Sic auctuD Latium, quo pluiima transtulit Argis 
Usus, et exhauatia Itali potiuntur Athenis. 
Nonne videa niedlis ut multa erepta Mycenis, 
Graia genus, fulgent nosliis immixta, nee ullum 

D,o, by Google 


Their nature different, but tiieir looks the same ! 
Through Latiura's realms in Latium's garb they go, 
At once her strangers and her natives too ; 
Long has her poverty been fled, and Long 
With native riches has she graced her tongue. 
Nor search the poets only, but explore 
Immortal TulJy's inexhausted store ; 
And other authors, bom in happier days. 
Shall answer all your wants, and beautify your lays. 

Oft, in old bards, a verse above the rest 
Shines, in barbaric spoils and trophies dressed : 
Thus Gaul, her victor's triumph to complete. 
Supplies those words that paint her own defeat ; 
And vanquished Macedon, to tell her doom, 
Gives up her language with her arms to Rome. 
Then can we fear with groundless diffidence 
A want of words that shall express our sense? 

But, if compelled by want, you may produce 
And bring an antiquated word in use, 
A word erst well received in days of yore, 

Appnret discrimen? eunt inaignibus xquis 
Undique per Latios et civis et advena traclus. 
Jundudum no9tri cessit sermonis egeatas : 
Raro uber palrix tibi rare apulentia deerit. 
Ipse auis Cicero thesanris omnia promet, 
Autoresque alii nati felicibus annis 
Omnia sufficient, nee solis ciede poetis. 

Ssepe etiam vidl veleium inter caimina vatam 
Barbarico versus cuitu, gaiaque superboa; 
Belgicaque immisit trans Alpes esseda Gallas 
In Latium, et longe Macedum venere sarissx; 
Et metuam ne deficiat me la^a supellex 
Verborum, angustique premat sertnonis egestas? 

Quin et victa silu, si me penuria adaxit. 
Verba licet renovate, licet lua, sancta vetualas, 
Vatibus indugredi sacrariar seepius olli 

D,o, by Google 

«2] BOOK in. 137 

A word our old forefathers used before ; 
Well-pleased the reader's wonder to engage, 
■ He brings our grandsires' habit on the stage, 
And garbs that whilom graced an uncouth age. 
Yet must not s«ch appear in every place ; 
When ranged too thick, the poem they disgrace ; 
Since of new words such numbers you command. 
Deal out the old ones with a sparing hand. 

Whene'er your images can lay no claim 
To a fixed term, and want a certain name, 
To paint one thing the licensed bard affords 
A pompous circle, and a crowd of words. 

Two plighted words in one with grace appear. 
When they with ease glide smoothly o'er the ear. 
Two may embrace at once, but seldom more, * 

Nor verse can bear the mingled shape of four ; 
No triple monsters dwell on Latium's shore. 
When, mixed with smooth, these harsher strains are found, 
We start with horror at the frightful sound ; 
The Grecian bards, in whom such freedoms please, 

j^tatii gaudent insigoibus anliquai, 

Et veterum ormttui induti incedere avoium. 

Non timen ille vetus squalor fuat undique et ater 

Verborum situs : his modus adsit denique, quando 300 

Copia non desit quorum nunc pervius usus. 

Turn quoque si deeruot rebus sua nomina certa. 
Fas illas apta veibarum ambire cocona, 
Et late ciicumfusis compiendere dictis. 

Verba etiam turn bina juvat conjuagere in unum 3or> 

Molliter inter se vinclo sociata jugali. 
Verum plura nefas vulgo congesia coire, 
Ipsaqne quadritidis subniti cacmina membris: 
Itala nee passim fctt monstra tricorpota tellus. 
Horresco dicos sonitus, ac levja funds 310 

Invitus pertemcrepas per carmina voces. 
Argolici, quos ista decet concesaa libido. 

D,o, by Google 


May match with more success such words as these. 
Heap hills on hills, and bid the structure rise, . 
Till the vast pile of mountains prop the skies. 

What words soever of vast bulk we view, 
One of less size may sometimes split in two ; 
Sometimes we separate from the whole a part, 
And prune the more luxuriant limbs with art 
Thus when the names of heroes we declare. 
Names whose unpolished sounds offend the ear, 
We add, or lop some branches which abound. 
Till the harsh accents are with smoothness crowned 
That mellows every word, and softens every sound : 
By such a happy change, Sicharbas came 
To sink his roughness in Sichasus' name. 
Hence would I rather choose those dire alarms 
Of vast Enceladus, and Heaven in arms. 
And the bold Titan's battles to rehearse — 
Harmonious names, that glide into the verse — 
Than count the rough, the barbarous nations o'er. 
Which Rome subdued of old from shore to shore. 

Talia connubia, et laUs celebrent Hymenxos; 
Ter genlinas immane atruani ad sideia moles, 
Pelion addentes Ossx, et Pelio Olympum. 

At verbis etiam partes ingentia in ambas 
Verba interpositis proscindere, seque parare, 
Deterere interdum licet, atque abstrase secando 
Exiguam partem, et stiinxiase fluentia membra. 
Idcirco siquando ducum referenda virumque 
Nomina dura nimis dictu, atque aaperrima Coltu, 
Ilia aliqui, nunc addentes. nunc inde putantes 
Fauca minutalim, levant, ac mollia reddunt, 
Sichseumque vocant mulata. parte Sicbarbom. 
Hinc mihi Titanum pugnas, et sxva gigantum 
Bella magis libeat canere, Enceladique tumultus, 
Qoam populos Itala quondam virtute subaclos, 
Alqne triumphatas diverso a litlore gentea. 

D,o, by Google 

■m'] BOOK III. 

Let things submit to words on no pretense, 
But loake your words subservient to your sense, 
Nor for their salce admit a single line 
But what contributes to the main design ; 
Through every part most diligently pierce, 
And weigh the sound and sense of every verse. 
Unless your strictest caution you display, 
Some words may lead the heedless bard away, 
Steal from their duty, and desert their post. 
And skulk in darkness, indolently lost ; 
Or, while their proper parts their fellows ply, 
Contribute nought but sound and harmony. 
This to prevent, consult your words, and know 
How far their strength, extent, and nature go ; 
To all, their charges and their labors fit. 
To all, their several provinces of wit. 
Without this care, the poem will abound 
With empty noise and impotence of sound. 
Unmeaning terms will crowd in every part, 
Play round the ear, but never reach the heart 
Yet would I sometimes venture to disperse 

Sed neque, verborum causa, vis ulla canentem. 
Consilium pia^ler, cogat res addere inanes, 
Nomina sed rebus semper servire jubeto, 
Omnia peipendens vetsus cesonantia membra. 
Verba etenlm qoaedam ignaium te fallere possunl, 
Ni vigiles, mandatum et munus obire cecusent, 
Furenturque operi clam sese, el inertia cessent, 
Oetera dum labor exercet Concordia jussus, 
Quxque suus: lantum ilia dabunt numerumque sonutnque. 
Atque ideo quid feiie queant, qnid qweque recusent 
Explorare prius labor eito, et munera justa 
Mandalo, ac proprium cunctis partire laborem. 
Obscuros atiter crepitus, et murmura vana 
Miscebis, ludesque sonis fallacibua aures. 
Nee tamen interdum vacuas, animoque cacentes 

D,o, by Google 


Some words, whose splendor should adorn my verse — 

Words that to wit and thought have no pretense, 

And rather vehicles of sound than sense — 

Till in the gorgeous dress the lines appear. 

And court with gentle harmony the ear. 

Nor with too fond a care such words pursue, 

They meet your sight, and rise in every view. 

Oft from its chains the shackled verse unloose, 

And give it liberty to wallc in prose ; 

Then be the work renewed with endless pain. 

And join with care the shattered parts again ; 

The lurking faults and errors you may see, 

When the words run unmanacled and free. 

Attend, young bard, and listen while I sing : 
Lo ! I unlock the Muse's sacred spring ; 
Lo ! Phoebus calls thee to his inmost shrine ; 
Hark ! in one common voice the tuneful Nine 
Invite and court thee to the rites divine. 
When first to man the privilege was given 
To hold by verse an intercourse with Heaven, 

Addubitem ipse volens incassum fundere voces, 

Veibaque quae nullo funganlur munere sensus: S 

Dives ut egtegio tantum et conspectus amicCu 

Versus eat, dulcique sono demulceat aures. 

Atque adeo quae sint ne vero quiere ; profecto 

Ilia tibi se sponte dabunt per se obvia passim. 

Saspe autem ruplis vinclis exempta volutes 8 

Membra, et compactum qua^itor disjice venum, 

Post itenun refice, el partes in pristina redde 

Partibus avulsas ; nunquam te Ubeia vinclii 

Incautum faUent, resoluto CBimine, verba. 

Hue ades, hie penitus tibi tolum Helicona recludam: a 

Te Musse, puer, hie facitei penettalibus imis 
Adtniltunt, sacrJK^ue adj'tts invitat Apollo. 
Principio qiioniam magni commercia eoell 
Nuiaina concessere homini, cui cannina cone, 

D,o, by Google 


Unwilling that the immortal art should he 
Cheap, and exposed to every vulgar eye. 
Great Jove, to drive away the groveling crowd, 
To narrow bounds confined the glorious road. 
Which more exalted spirits may pursue, 
And left it open to the sacred few. 
For many a painful task, in every part. 
Claims all the poet's vigilance and art, 
Tis not enough his verses to complete, 
In measure, numbers, or determined feet ; 
Or render things by clear expression bright, 
And set each object in a proper light ; 
To all, proportioned terms he must dispense. 
And make the sound a picture of the sense, 
The correspondent words exactly frame, 
The look, the features, and the mien, the same. 
His thoughts the bard must suitably express. 
Each in a different face and different dress. 
Lest in unvaried looks the crowd be shown, 
And the whole multitude appear as one. 
With rapid feet and wings, without delay, 

Ipse Deum genitor divinam noluit Hitem 
Omnibus expositam vulgo, immeritisque patete : 
Alque ideo, turbam quo longe Brceret ineitem, 
Angustam esse viam voluit, paucisqne licere; 
Multa adeo incumbunt doctis vigilanda poetis. 
Haud satis est illis uteunque claudere versura, 
£t res verborum pcopiia vi reddere claias: 
Omnia sed numeris vocnm concordibua aplant, 
Atque sono quxcuaque canunt imitantuT, et apta 
Veiborum facie, eC quarto carminis ore. 
Nam diversa opus esl veluti dare versibos oca, 
Diversosque habitus, ne qualis primus, et alter, 
Talis et inde alter, vultuquc incedat eodem. 
Hie melior motaque pedum, et peraicibus alia. 

D,o, by Google 


This swiftly flies, and smoothly skims away ; 
That, vast of size, his limbs huge, broad, and strong. 
Moves ponderous, and scarce drags his bulk along. 
This blooms with youth and beauty in his face, 
And Venus breathes on every Umb a grace ; 
That, of rude form, his uncouth numbers shows. 
Looks horrible, and frowns with his rough brows ; 
His monstrous tail in many a fold and wind, 
Voluminous and vast, curb up behind ; 
At once the image and the lines appear 
Rude to the eye, and frightful to the ear. 
Nor are those figures given without a cause, 
But fixed and settled by determined laws ; 
All claim and wear, as their deserts are known, 
A voice, a face, and habit of their own. 
Lo ! when the sailors steer the ponderous ships. 
And plough with brazen beaks the foamy deeps. 
Incumbent on the main that roars around. 
Beneath their laboring oars the waves resound, 
The prows wide-echoing through the dark profound : 

Molle viun tacito lapsn pet levia radit : 

Ille autem membris, ac mole ignavius ingens 

Incedit tardo malimine subsidendo. 

Ecce aliquii subit egregio pulcherrimus ore, 

Cui Isetum menibiis Venus omnibus afflat honorem. 

Contra alius ntdis, infoimes ostendit et aitus, 

Hirautumque supercilium, ac caudam sinuosam, 

Ingcatus vJ9u, sonitu illEelabibs ipso. 

Nee vero hx sine lege dabE, sine mente figurx, 

Sed facies sua pro meiicis, habitusque sunusque 

Cunctis, cuique suns, vocum discrimine certo. 

Ergo ubi jam nautx spnmas salis xxe ruentes 

Incubuere mari, videas spumare reductis 

Convulsum remis, rostriaque stride ntibus jequor. 

Tunc longe sale saxa sonant, tunc et freta ventii 

Dpi .?d by Google 

-403] BOOK in. 

To the loud call each distant rock replies. 
Tossed by the storm the frothy surges rise, 
While the hoarse ocean beats the sounding shore, 
Dashed from the strand the flying waters roar. 
Flash at the shock, and, gathering in an heap, 
The liquid mountains rise, and overhang the deep. 
See through her shores Trinacria's realms rebound. 
Starting and trembling at the bellowing sound ; 
High-towering o'er the waves the mountains ride. 
And clash with floating mountains on the tide. 
But when blue Neptune from his car surveys 
And calms at one regard the raging seas. 
Stretched like a peacefiil lake the deep subsides, 
And o'er the level light the galley glides. 
The poet's art and conduct we admire. 
When angry Vulcan rolls a flood of fire, 
When on the groves and fields the deluge preys, 
And wraps the crackling stubble in the blaze. 
Nor less our pleasure, when the flame divides 
And climbs aspiring round the caldron's sides ; 

Indpiunt agitata tiimescere: littore lluctus 

Illidunt cauco, atque lefmcta remutmuiaC unda 

Ad scopulos, ciimalo insequitur ptseruptus aquEe mons. 

Nee mora, Trinacriam ceinaa procul intremere omnem 

Funditus, et monies concuirere montibus altoi. 

Cum veco ex alio speculatUS caerula Nereus 

Leoiil in morem stagnt, placidxque paludis, 

Labitiu nncia vadis abies, nalat uncta carina. 

Hinc etiam soleis miiabeie sx^ legend o, 

Sicubi Vnlcaniis sylvis incendia inisit, 

Aut agro, stipulas flamma crepilante cremari. 

Nee minus exultant laticea, cum txda sonore 

Virgea luggeritui coEtis undantis aheni. 

Carmine nee levi dicenda est scabra crepido. 

Tum, ii Ixts canuni, hilari quoque carmina vultD 

D,o, by Google 


From the dark bottom work the waters up, 
Swell, boil, and hiss, and bubble to the top. 
Thus in sm€ibth lines smooth subjects we rehearse, 
But the rough rock roars in as rough a verse. 
if gay the subject, gay must be the song. 
And the brisk numbers quickly glide along 
When the fields flourish, or the skies unfold 
Swifl from the flying hinge their gates of gold. 
If sad the theme, then each grave line moves slow. 
The mournful numbers iangubhingly flow. 
And drag, and labor, with a weight of woe, 
If e'er the boding bird of night, who mourns 
O'er rains, desolations, graves, and urns. 
With piercing screams the darkness should invade. 
And break the silence of the dismal shade. 
When things are small the terms should still be so, 
For low words please us when the theme is low. 
But when some giant, horrible and grim. 
Enormous in his gait, and vast in every limb. 
Stalks towering on, the swelling words must rise 
In just proportion to the monster's size ; 
If sonie large weight his huge arms strive to shove, 

Incedunt, Ixtumqne sonant haud segnia verba: 

yeu cum veru novo rident prata humida; seu cum 

Panditur inlerea domus omnipotentis Olympi. 

ConUa autem sese tristcs inamabile carmen 

Induit in vultus, ai forte inviaa volucris 

Nocte aedens serum canit importuna per umbras, 

Ut quondam in bustis, aut culminibus desertis. 

Verba etiam les eiiguas angusta sequuntur, 

Ingcntesque juvant ingentia : cuncta gigantem 

Vasta decent, vultus immanes, pectora lata, 

Et magni membrorum attus, magna ossa, lacertique. 

Atque adeo, siquid geritur moUminc magno, 

Adde moram, et patiler tecum quoque verba laborent 

D,o, by Google 

■433] BOOK III. H5 

The verse too labors ; the thronged words scarce move. 

When each stiff clod beneath the ponderous plough 

Crumbles and breaks, the encumbered linS« march slow ; 

Nor less when pilots catch the friendly gales, 

Unfurl their shrouds, and hoist the wide- stretched sails. 

But if the poem sulfers from delay. 

Let the lines fly precipitate away. 

And when the viper issues from the brake • 

Be quick ; with stones and brands and fire attack 

His rising crest, and drive the serpent back. 

When night descends, or, stunned by numerous strokes 

And groaning, to the earth drops the vast ox. 

The line too sinks with correspondent sound. 

Flat with the steer, and headlong to the ground. 

When the wild waves subside, and tempests cease. 

And hash their roarings and their rage to peace, 

So oft we see the interrupted strain 

Stopped in the midst, and with the silent main. 

Pause (or a space ; — at last it glides again. 

When Priam strains his aged arm, to throw 

. Segnia: seu quando vi multa gleba coacCia 
Sternum frangenda bidentibus, Eequore seu cum 
Coniaa velatarum obvertimus antennaiuin. 

At mora si fuerit damno, pioperare jubebo. 420 

Si se forte cava ei^tuleiit mala vipera (erra, 
ToUe moras, cape saxa manu, cape robora, pastor : 
Ferte citi flammas, date tela, repetUte peetem. 
Ipse eliam versus ruat, in praecepsque feratur, 
Immenso cum pr3»:ipitans ruit Oceano aox, 425 

Aut cum percuUus graviter piocumbil bumi Ikm. 
Cumque etiam requies rebus datur, ipsa quoque ultro 
Carmina paulisper cursu cessare videhis 
In medio interrupla : quierant cum frela ponti, 

Fostquam aucie posuere, quiescere piotinus ipsum 430 

Cernere erit, mediisque incceptis sistere versum. 
Quid dicam, senior cum telum imbelle sine ictu 

D,o, by Google 


His unavailing javelin at the foe 

(His blood congealed, and every nerve unstrung), 

Then with the theme complies his artful song ; 

Like him the solitaiy numbed flow 

Weak, trembling, melancholy, stiff, and slow. 

Not so young Pyrrhus, who with rapid force 

Beats down embattled armies in his course ; 

Thff raging youth on trembling Ilion falls. 

Bursts her strong gates and shakes her tofiy walls. 

Provokes his flying courser to his speed 

In full career to charge the warlike steed ; 

He piles the field with mountains of the slain. 

He pours, he storms, he thunders through the plain. 

In this the poet's justest conduct lies. 

When with the various subjects he complies. 

To sink with judgment, and with judgment rise. 

We see him now, remissive of his force. 

Glide with a low and inoffensive course ; 

Stripped of the gaudy dress of words he goes. 

And scarcely lifts the poem up from prose : 

And now he brings with loosened reins along 

Invslidus jacil, et defectis viribus s^er? 
Nun quoque tum versus segni paiiter pede languet: 
Sanguis hebet, frigent effretc in corpote vires. 
Fortem aulem juvenem dcceat prorumpere in uces, 
Everlisse domos, pnefractaque quadrupedantum 
Pectora pecloiibus perrumpere, Meniere tunes 
Ingentes, Cotoque fenim dare funera campo. 
Nulla adeo vstum major prudentia, quam se 
Aut piemere. aut rerum pro majestate canendo 

Verborum par cos, humilique obrepere gressu, 
Textaque vix gracili deducere carmina filo, 
Nunc illos, verbii opulentos, divite vena 
Cemere erit tluere, ac laxU decuirere habenis 

D,o, by Google 

All in a full career the boundless song ; 

In wide array luxuriantly he pours 

A crowd of words, and opens all his stores ; 

The lavish eloquence redundant flows. 

Thick as the fleeces of the winter snows, 

When Jove invests the naked Alps, and sheds 

The silent tempest on their hoary heads. 

Sometimes the godlike fury he restrains, 

Checks his impetuous speed, and draws the reins ; 

Balanced and poised, he neither sinks nor soars, 

Ploughs the mid space, and steers between the shores, 

And shaves the confines ; till, all dangers passed. 

He shoots .with joy into the port at last. 

For what remains unsung : I now declare 
What claims the poet's last and strictest care. 
When, all adventures passed, his labors tend 
In one continued order to their end. 
When the proud victor on his conquest smiles. 
And safe enjoys the triumph of his toils, 
Let him by timely diffidence be awed. 
Nor trust too soon the unpolished piece abroad. 

Fluxosque ingentesque : redundat copia beta 
Ubete fclici, verborumque ingruit agmen, 
Hibemarum instar niviuin, cum Juppiler Alpes 
Frigidus xreas, atquc alta cacumina vestit. 
Interdum vero cohibent undantia lura. 
Ncin humites, non sublimes, media iiiler utrumque 
Littus aiant veluti spatia, et confinia radunti 
Sic demum portu Ueti ccmduntui in altu. 

Quod supeiest, qu» postremo peragenda paelse, 
Expediam. Postquam casus evaserit umnes, 
Signaque perpetuura dedunit ad ultima carmen 
Exultans animo victor, lastusque laborum; 
Non totam subito ptieceps secura per urbem 
Carmina vulgabit: ah! ne ail gloria tanti, 

D,o, by Google 


O may his rash ambition ne'er inAame 

His breast with such a dangerous thirst of fame ! 

But let the terror of disgrace control 

The warm, the partial fondness of the soul. 

And force the bard to throw his passion by, 

Nor view his offspring with a parent's eye, 

Till his affections are by justice crossed. 

And all the father in the judge is lost. 

He seeks his friends, nor trusts himself alone, 

But asks their judgment and resigns his own ; 

Begs them, with urgent prayers, to be sincere. 

Just and exact, and rigidly severe. 

Due verdict to pronounce on every thought, 

Nor spare the slightest shadow of a fault ; 

But, bent against himself, and strictly nice, 

He thanks each critic that detects a vice j 

Though charged with what his judgment can defend. 

He joins the partial sentence of his friend. 

The piece thrown by, the careful bard reviews 

The long- forgot ten labors of his Muse ; 

Lo ! on all sides far different objects rise, 

Et dulcis lamx quondam malesuaila cupido : 

At patiens operum semper, metuensque pericli 

Expectet, donee sedata mente calurem 

Paulatim exueiiC, fcetusque abolerit amorem 

Ipse sui, curamque alio traduxerit omnem. 

Interea lidos adit baud securus amicos, 

Ut(|ue velint inimicum animum, frontisque severa: 

Dura aupercilia induere, et non parcerc culpie, 

H[>s iterum atque itecum rogat; admonitusque latentis 

Grates beCua agit vitii. et peccaCa fatetur 

Sponte sua, quamvis etiam damneCur iniquo 

Jndicio, et falsum quest ore refellere crimen. 

Turn demum redit, et post tonga oblivia per se 

Incipit hie ilUc veterem expbrare labocem. 


■489] BOOK III. 

And a new prospect strikes his wondering eyes ; 
Warm from the brain, the lines his love engrossed - 
Now in themselves their former selves are lost ; 
Now his own labors he begins to blame. 
And blushing reads them with regret and shame ; 
He loathes the piece, condemns it, nor can find 
The genuine stamp and image of his mind. 
This thought and that indignant he rejects, 
When most secure, some danger he suspects, 
Anxious he adds, and trembling he corrects ; 
With kind severities and timely art, 
Lops the luxuriant growth of every part. 
Prunes the superfluous boughs that wildly stray. 
And cuts the rank redundancies away. 
Thus armed with proper discipline he stands, 
By day, by night, applies his healing hands, 
From every line to wipe out every blot. 
Till the whole piece is guiltless of a fault. 
Hard is the task, but needful, if your aim 
Tends to the prospect of immortal fame. 

Ecce! Butem ante ocnlos nova se fert nndiqae imago; 
Longe alia heu ! facies renini, mutataque ab illis 
Carmina, (jiue tantum ante, recens confecta, placebanL 
Miratur tacitus, nee se cognoscit in illis 
Immemor, alque operum piget, ac sese inctepat ultto. 
Turn rettaclat opus, eommisaa piacula doclae 
Palladis arte luens ; nunc hxc, nunc tejicit ilia, 
Omnia tutu timens, melioraque sufficil illis, 
Attondelque comas sltingens, sylvamque fluentem, 
Luxuriemqne minutatim dcpascit inanem, 
Eiercens durum imperium: dum funditus omnem, 
Nocturnia instans operia, operisque diurnis, 
Vembus eluerit labem, et commissa piaiit. 
Arduua hie labor; hie autem durate, poetfe, 
Gloria quos movet stemx pulchercima fanue. 

D,o, by Google 


ir some unfinished numbers limp behind, 

When the warm poet rages unconfined. 

Then when his swift invention scorns to stay, 

By a full tide of genius whirled away — 

He brings the sovereign cure their failings claim, 

Confirms the sickly, and supports the lame. 

Oft as the seasons roll, renew thy pain, 

And bring the poem to the test again : 

In different lights the expression must be ranged, 

The garb and colors of the words be changed. 

With endless care thy watchful eyes must pierce. 

And mark the parts distinct of every verse. 

In this persist ; for oft one day denies 

The kind assistance which the next supplies ; 

As oft, without your vigilance and care. 

Some faults detected by themselves ajjpear ; 

And now a thousand errors you explore 

That lay involved in mantling clouds before. 

Oft, to improve his Muse, the bard should try. 

By turns, the temper of a different sky ; 

Turn siqua est etiam pars imperfecta relicta, 
Olim dum properal furor, ingeniique moiari 
Tempestas renuit, supple tque, el versibus atfert 
Invalidis miseratus opem, claudisque medetur. 
Nee semel a I tree tare salia, veium omne quota nn is 
Tcrque, qualerque upus evolvendum, verl)aque versis 
jSteinum immulanda culoribus; omne frequenli 
S^pe revisendum studio per singula carmen. 
Quod Hon una dies, fors afferet altera, et ultro, 
NuUo olim studio, nulla olim in carmine cura, 
DeprensiE per Se prodentur tempore culpiB, 
Quxque latent varire densa inter nubila pestes. 
Quin etiam doctum multum juvet ille laborem, 
Qui varies cceli creber mutaverit oras, 
Namque etiam mutant animi, genioque locorum 
Div«rsas species, divereos pectoca mutus 

D,o, by Google 

For thus his genius takes a different face 

From every different genius of a place. 

The soul too changes, and the bard may find 

A thousand various motions in his mind ; 

New gleams of hght vvill every moment rise. 

While from each part the scattering darkness flies ; 

And, as he alters what appears amiss, 

He adds new flowers to beautify the piece. 

But here, even here, avoid the extreme of such 

Who with excess of care correct too much. 

Whose barbarous hands no calls of pity bound, 

While with the infected parts they cut the sound, 

And make the cure more dangerous than the wound i 

Till, all the blood and spirits drained away, 

The body sickens, and the parts decay. 

The. native beauties die, the limbs appear 

Rough and deformed with one continued scar. 

No fixed determined number I enjoin. 

But when some years shall perfect the design. 

Reflect on life ; and, mindful of thy span. 

Whose scanty limit bounds the days of man, 

Concipiunt, nostrisque novK se menlibus offerl 

Ultco aliquid semper lucis, tenebixque recedunt, 

Atque novos operi semper fas addere tlores. 

Verum esto hie etiam modus: huic imponere curs 

Nescivere aliqui linein, medicasque secandis 

Morbis abstinuisse manus, et parcere tandem 

I m mites, donee macie confectus et xger 

Aruit exhauato velut omni sanguine fcetus, 

Nativumque decus posuit, dum plurima ubique 

Deformat seclos artus inhonesia cicatrix. 

Tuque ideo vitae usque memor brevioris, ubi annO» 

Post aliquot (neque eaim numerum, neque tempora pono 

Certa tibi) addideris decoris satis atque niloris, 

Rumpe moras, opus ingentera dimitte per oibem, 



Wide o'er the spacious world, without delay, 

Permit the finished piece to take its way, 

Till all mankind admires the heavenly song, 

The theme of every hand and every tongue. 

See ! thy pleased friends thy spreading glory draws. 

Each with his voice to swell the vast applause ; 

The vast applause shall reach the starry frame. 

No years, no ages, shall obscure thy fame. 

And Earth's last ends shall hear thy darling name. 

Shall we then doubt to scorn all worldly views, 

And not prefer the rapture of the Muse ? 

Thrice happy bards ! who, taught by Heaven, obey 
These rules, and follow where they lead the way, 
And hear the faithful precepts I bestowed, 
inspired with rage divine, and laboring with the god. 
But art alone, and human means, must fail. 
Nor these instructive precepts will prevail. 
Unless the gwls iheir present aid supply. 
And look, with kind indulgence from the sky. 
1 only pointed out the paths that lead 
The panting youth lo steep Parnassus' head ; 

Perque manus, iieri|ue ara virum peimitte vagari. 
Cundnuu \Ma te dulces un(li<|ue amici 
Gralanteg (tlausu cxcipient: tua gloria ccelo 
Succedet, nomenque tuum sinus ultimuB aibis 
.-\uiliel, ac nullo ditfusum abolebitur xvo. 
Et dubiUmua opes aniino contemnete avari. 
Nee poliuG sequimuc dulces ante omnia Musas? 
O foitunali ! qnibus oUm haec numina dextia 
Annuciint pnccepta se([UL, quxve ipse canendo 
Jnssa dedi plenus Ph(clH>, altonitusque ruioce : 
Quando turn artes satis vOx; honiinumque laborer. 
Et mca dicta pacum pro^nt, ni desuper adsit 
.\uKilium. an pr^esens favor omuipoteiitis Olympi. 
Ipse viarn taaEum putui ducuisse cepcrlaui 

D,o, by Google 


And showed the tuneful Muses from afar, 
Mixed in a solemn choir, and dancing there. 
Thither forbidden by the fates to go, 
I sink and grovel in the world below ; 
Deterred by them, in vain I labor up, 
And stretch these hands to grasp the distant top. 
Enough for me, at distance if I view , 

Some bard, some happier bard, the path pursue ; 
Who, taught by me to reach Parnassus' crown. 
Mounts up, and calls his slow companions on. 
But yet these rules, perhaps, these humble lays. 
May claim a title to a share of praise. 
When, in a crowd, the gathering youth shall hear 
My voice and precepts with a willing ear, 
Close in a ring shall press the listening throng. 
And learn from me to regulate their song. 
Then, if the pitying fates prolong my breath, 
And from my youth avert the dart of Death ; 
Whene'er I sink in life's declining stage, 

Aonas^d monteE, longeque ostendere Musas, 

Haudentes celste choreas in verlice cupis, 

Quo Tne baud ice sinunt unquam fata invida, et usque 

Absterrentijue, arcentque procul, nee summa jugi uniiuam 

Fas pcensare manu fastigii: sal mihi, siquem, 

Siquein olim longe aspiciam mea fida sequutum 

Indicia exuperasse viam, summoque recepCum 

Verlice. et hxrentes socios juga ad alta vocantem. 

Sed nonnulla tamen noatri quoque gralia facti 

Forsan erit: me fida ulim prxcepti catienlem 

Stipabunt juvenes denso circum agmine fusi, 

Et vocem eicipieot intent! sensibus omnes. 

Turn, vibe si justa mea; procedere lustra 

Fata sinent, nee me virtdi succideiit cvo 

Impia moTS, oil! gelid a tardante senecta 

Languentem, et sera defessam xiate ma^pstrum 

Certatim prensa super alta cacumina dextra 

D,o, by Google 


TrembUng and fainting on the verge of age, 
To help their wearied master shall they run, 
And lend their friendly hands to guide him on ; 
Through blooming groves his tardy progress wait, 
And set him gently down at Phoebus' gate. 
The while he sings before the hallowed shrine 
The sacred poets and the tuneful Nine. 
Here then in Roman numbers will we rise. 
And lift the fame of Virgil to the skies — 
Ausonia's pride and boast ; who brings a)oi^ 
Strength to my lines, and spirit to my song. 
First how the mighty bard transported o'er 
The sacred Muses from the Aonian shore, 
Led the fair sisters to the Hesperian plains, 
And sung in Roman towns the Grecian strains ; 
How in his youth to woods and groves he fled, 
And sweetly tuned the soft Sicilian reed ; 
Next, how, in pity to the Ausonian swains. 
He raised to Heaven the honors of the plains. 
Rapt in Triptolemus's car on high, 
He scattered peace and plenty from the sky ; 
Fired with his country's fame, with loud alarms 

Ssepe trahent, ultroque fereni per annEna locorum, 
El summi invalidum aislent ad limina Phoebi, 
CanCantem Musas, vatumque inventa pionim. 

Virgilii ante omnes IeeIi hie super asWa feremus 

Carminibus patriis laudes; decus uude LatiiTuiii, 
Unde mihi vires, animus iwhi 'ducitur unde: 
Friniuj ut Aoniis Musas deduxerit oris, 
Argolieum reaonans Romana per oppida carmen : 
Ut juvenis ^'Lcuias sylvis inflatit Bvenas; 
Utque idem, Ausonios animi miseratus agrestes, 
Extuleiit sacros taria super aelhera honores, 
Triptolemi invectus volucti per sidera curtu: 
Res demum ingressus Komanx^ laudis, ad arms 

D,o, by Google 

At last he roused all Latium up to arms. 
In just array the Phrygian troops bestowed, 
And spoke the voice and language of a god. 
Father of verse ! from whom our honors spring, 
See from ali parts our bards attend their king. 
Beneath thy banners ranged, thy fame increase, 
And rear proud trophies from the spoils of Greece ! 
Low, in Elysian fields, her tuneful throng 
Bow to thy laurels and adore thy song ; 
On thee alone thy country turns her eyes, 
On thee her poets' future fame relies. 
See how in crowds they court thy aid divine — 
For all their honors but depend on thine ! — 
Taught from the womb thy numbers to rehearse, 
And sip the balmy sweets of every verse. 
Unrivaled bard ! all ages shall decree 
The first unenvied palm of fame to thee ; 
Thrice happy bard ! thy boundless glory flies, 
Where never mortal must attempt to rise ; 
Such heavenly numbers in thy song we hear, 
And more than human accents charm the ear ! 

Excierit Latium omne, Phiygumque instiuxerit alas. 
Verba Deo aimilis ; deeus a te principe noslrum 
Omne, pater! tibi GTajugenum de genie trophiEa 
SuspendunI Itali vates, tua signa sequuti. 
Omni* in Elyaiia luium te Gnecia campis 
Miralurque, auditque ultro, assiugitque canenti, 
Te sine, nil nobis pulchrum : omnes ora Latini 
In te, oculosque ferunt vecsi: tua maxima virtus 
Omnibus auxilio est; tua tibant cannina passim 
Assidui. primis ct te venerantur ab annis. 
Ne tibi quis vatum certaverit: omnia cedant 
Secla, nee invideant primus libi laudia honores. 
Fortunate operum ! tua prxstans gloria famfe, 
Quo quenquam aspirare nefaa, sese extulit alis. 

D,o, by Google 


To thee, bis dsibag, Phcebos' hands impart 
His soul, his genius, and immortal aiL 
What help or merit io these rules are shown. 
The youth must owe to thy sapport alone — 
The yoDth, whose wandering feet with care I led 
Aloft, o'er steep Parnassus' sacred head. 
Taught from thy great example to explore 
Those ardu(»is paths which thou hast trod before. 
Hail, pride of Italy ! thy country's grace ! 
Hail, glorious light of all the tuneful race ! 
For whom we weave the crown, and altars raise. 
And with rich incense bid the temples blaze ; 
Our solemn hymns shall still resound thy praise. 
Hail, holy bard, and boundless in renown ! 
Thy fame, dependent on thyself alone, 
Requires no song, no numbers, but thy own. 
Look down propitious, and my thoughts inspire ! 
Warm my chaste bosom with thy sacred fire ! 
I^t all thy flames with all their raptures roll, 
Deep in my breast, and kindle all my soul ! 

Nil adeo tnoitale «onai: tibi captns amore 

Iptt laoi animos, sua maaera ketos ApoUo 

Addidit, ac mulU pi^estanlcni iDsigniit arte. 

Quodcunque hoc opU. alquc artis, nostriqne repetti 

Uni graU tibi debet ptieclara juventua, 

Qnain docai, et tapis aacne mper atiiaa dui. 

Dam tua fida lego vestigia, tc seqaot unum 

O deCDS Italix ! fax a clarissima vatnin '. 

Te colimas, tibi wrta dainiis, libi tara, tibi aias 

Et libi rile sacnim tempCF dicamas honorem 

Canninibus memores : salve sanctissime vales '. 

Laodibus augeri toa gloria nil polis ultra, 

Et nostix nil vocis eg" : "oa aspice pncsena, ' 

Pecloribnsque taus castris infunde calores 

Adveniens. pater! atqoe animis te le insete nostris. 

D,o, by Google 


Dpi .?d.hy Google 

Dioiir^ci by Google 




RASH author, 'tis a vain presumptuous crime 
To undertake the sacred art of rime ; 
If at thy birth the stars that ruled thy sense 
Shone not with a poetic influence. 
In thy strait genius thou wilt stiil be bound, 
Find Phcebus deaf, and Pegasus unsound. 
You, then, that burn with a desire to try 
The dangerous course of charming poetry. 
Forbear in fruitless veise to lose your time. 
Or take for genius the desire of rime ; 
" "T'ear the allurements of a specious bail, 

And well consider your own force and weight. 

C'EST en vain qu'au Parnasse un temeraire autcuT 
Pense lie I'att des vers atteindre la hauteur; 
S'il ne sent point du ciel I'influence secc^le. 
Si son astre en naissant ne I'a lottai poete, 
Dana son ginie ftroil il est loujours captif; 
Pour lut Phebua est sourd, et Pegase est tetif. 
O vous dune qui, btQlant d'une ardeur pjritleuse, 
Courez du bel esprit la carriere ^pineuse, 
N'allei pas sur des vers sana fruil vous consumer, 
Ni prendre pour g^nie un amour de rimer; 
Craignei d'un vain plaisir les Irompeuses amorces, 
Et consulted longtemps votre esprit et vos forces. 

Dpi .?d by Google 


Nature abounds in wits »f every kind, 

And for each author can a talent find i 
One may in verse descrihe an amorous flame, 
Another sharpen a short epigram ; 
Waller a hero's mighty acts extol, 
Spenser sing Rosalind in pastoral. 
But authors, that themselves too much esteem. 
Lose their own genius, and mistake their theme : 
Thus in times past Dubartas vainly writ, 
Alloying sacred truth with trilling wit ; 
Impertinently, and without delight. 
Described the Israelites' triumphant flight ; 
And, following Moses o'er the sandy plain. 
Perished with Pharaoh in the Arabian main, 
Whate'er you write of pleasant or sublime. 
Always let sense accompany your rime ; 
Falsely they seem each other to oppose, — 
Rime must be made with reason's laws to close ; 

La nature, fertile en esprits excellens, 
Sait entre les auleura paitager les talens; 
L'un peut Iracei en V(fn one amoureuse flamme, 
L'autre d'un trait plaisanl aiguiser I'ipigtamme; 
Malherbe d'un h^ros pent vanter les exploits, 
Racan chantet Philis, les beigers et les buis. 
Mais souvent un espiit qui se flattc et i^ui s'aime 
MSconnoit son g^nie, et s'ignore soi-mfime: 
Ainsi tel auttefois qu'on vit avec Fatet 
Charhonnet de ses veis les niucs d'un cabaret, 
S'en va, mal k propos, d'ure voix insolente 
Chanter du peuple h^breu la fuite triomphante, 
EI, pouTSuivant Moise au ttavers des deserts, 
Court avec Pharaon se noyer dans les mers. 

Quelque sujet qu'on traite, oo plaisanl, ou sublimi 
Que toujours le bon sens s'accorde avec la rime; 
L'un I'autre vainement ils sembleni se hair, — 



And when to conquer her you bend your force. 
The mind will triumph in the nobie course ; 
To reason's yoke she quickly will incline. 
Which, far from hurting, renders her divine ; 
But if neglected, will as easily stray, 
And master reason, which she should obey. 
Love reason then ; and let whate'er you write | . 
Borrow from her its beauty, force, and light. 

Most writers mounted on a resty muse, 
Extravagant and senseless objects choose ; 
They think they err, if in their verse they fall 
On any thought that's plain or natural. 
Fly this excess ; and let Italians be 
Vain authors of false glittering poetry. 
All ought to aim at sense ; but most in vain 
Strive the hard pass and slippery path to gain ; 
You drown, if to the right or left you stray ; 
Reason to go has often but one way. 

La rime est une CGcUve, et ne doit qu'ob^ir. 
Lors<iu'll la bien chercher d'abotd on s'evertue, 
L'eaprit k la trouver aisement s'babitue; 
Au joug de la raison sans peine elle flfchit, 
Et. loin de la gSoer, la sett et I'encichil; 
Mais lorsqu'on la neglige, elle devienl tebelle, 
Et pour la rattraper le sens court api^s elle. 
Aimez done la raison; que toujours vos ecrits 
Empruntent d'elle seule el leur lustre el leur prix. 

La plupart, empottjs d'une fougue insens^e. 
Toujours loin du droit sens vont chercher leur pensee; 
lis croiroieot" s'abaisser, dans leurs vers monstrueux, 
S'ils pensoient ce qu'un autre a pu pcnser comme eux. 
Kvitons ce9 eicJs; laissons k ITtalie 
De tous ces faux brillans reclatanle folic. 
Tout doil tendre au bon sens; mais, pour y patvenir, 
Le chemin est glissanl et p^nible k tenir; 
Pour peu qu'on s'en ^caite, aussitSt I'on se noie; 




Sometimes an author, fond of his own thought. 
Pursues its object till it's overwrought : 
If he describes a house, he shows the face. 
And after walks you round from place to place; 
Here is a vista, there the doors unfold. 
Balconies here are balustered with gold ; 
Then counts the rounds and ovals in the halls, 
'The festoons, friezes, and the astragals;' 
Tired with his tedious pomp, away I run. 
And skip o'er twenty pages, to be gone. 
Of such descriptions the vain folly see. 
And shun their barren superfluity. 
All that is needless carefully avoid ; 
The mind once satisfied is quickly cloyed. 
He cannot write who knows not to give o'er, 
To mend one fault he makes a hundred more : 
A verse was weak, you turn it much too strong. 
And grow obscure for fear you should be long ; 

La raison pour marcher n'a souvent qu'une voie. 
Un auteur quelquefois, ttop plein de son objel, 
Jamais sans I'epuisei n'abandonne un sujet; 
S'il rencontre un palais, il m'en dSpeinl la face; 
II me promine apr^ de terrasse en tenasse; 
Ici a'olTre un perron, lik rSgne un corridor, 
Lit ce balcon s'enferme en un balustrf d'or. 
II compte des plafonds lea ronds et les ovales; 
*Ce ne sont que festons, ce ne sont qu'astragales;' 
Je saute vingt feuillets pour en trouver la fiii, 
Et je me sauve h peine au Iravers du jardin. 
Fuyez de ces auleurs I'abondance sterile, 
Et ne voiis chargez point d'un detail inutile. 
Tout ce qu'on dit de trop est fade et rebutant; 
L'esprit rassasi^ le lejette ii I'instant. 
Qui ne sait se borner ne sut jamais £crire. 
Souvent la peur d'un mal nous conduit dans un pire: 
Un veil ftoit trop foible, et vom le rendez dui; 

Some are not gaudy, but are flat and dry ; 
Not to be low, another soars too high. 

Would you of every one deserve the praise? 
In writing vary your discourse and phrase ; 
A frozen style, that neither ebbs nor flows, 
Instead of pleasing, makes us gape and doze. 
Those tedious authors are esteemed by none. 
Who tire us, humming the same heavy tone. 

Happy who in his verse can gently steer ■ 
From grave to light, from pleasant to severe ! ^ 
His works will be admired wherever found. 
And oft with buyers will be compassed round: 

In all you write be neither low nor vile ; 
The meanest theme may have a proper style!) 
The dull burlesque appeared with impudence. 
And pleased by novelty in spite of sense ; 
All, except trivial points, grew out of date ; ' 
Parnassus spoke the cant of Billingsgate j 

J'Svite d'fitre long, et je deviena obscai; 

L'un n'est point trop farde, mais sa muse est trop nue; 

L'autre a peur de ramper. il se perd dans la nue. 

Voulez-vuus du public meiiteT les amours. 
Sans cesse en ^crivant viriez vos disco urs; 
Un style trup fgal et toujours uniforme 
En vain brille \ nos yeux, il faut qu'il nous endorme. 
On lit peu ces auteurs, nis pour nous ennuyet, 
Qui toujours sur un ton semblent psalmodier. 

Heureux qui, dans ses vera, sail d'une voix ligJre 
Passer du grave au doux, du plaisant au severe! 
Son livre, aime du ciel, et cheri des lecleura, 
Est souveni chez Barbin entour^ d'acheleurs. 

Quoi que vous ecrivief, ^vltez la bassesse; 
Le style le moins noble a pourlant sa noblesse. 
Au mepris du bon sens, le burlesque effronti 
Trompa les yeox d'abord, plut par sa nouveaute; 
Od ne vit plus CD vers que pointes triviales; 

D,o, by Google 


Boundless and mad, disordered rime was seen ; 
Disguised Apollo changed to Harlequin. 
This plague, which first in country towns began. 
Cities and kingdoms quickly oveiran ; 
The dullest scribblers some admirers found. 
And the Mock Tempest was a while renowned. 
But this low stuff the town at last despised. 
And scorned the folly that they once had prized, 
Distinguished dull from natural and plain. 
And left the villages to Flecknoe's reign. 
Let not so mean a style your muse debase. 
But learn from Butler the^buffponmg^ac^""' 
And let burlesque in ballads be employed. 

Yet noisy bombast carefully avoid. 
Nor think to raise, though on Pharsalia's plain, 
' Millions of mourning mountains of the slain ; ' 
Nor, with Dubartas, ' bridle up the floods, 
And periwig with wool the baldpate woods.' 
Choose a just style. Be grave without constraint, 

Le Pamaase parla le langage des hallea; 

La licence i timer alurs n'eut plus de frein; 

ApoUon tiavesti devint un Tabarin. 

Cette conlagion infecta les pruvinces. 

Du cterc et du bourgois passa jusques aux princes, 

Le plus mauvais plaisant eut see apprubateurs, 

Kt, jusqu'S D'Assoud, tout trouva des lecteuci. 

Mail de ce style enlin la cour deaabus^e 

Dedaigna de ces vers T extravagance aisee, 

DisCingua le naif du plat et du boufibn, 

Kt laissa la province admirer le Typhon. 

Que ce slyle jamais ne souille votre ouvrage; 

Imitons de Marot I'elegant badinage, 

Et laissons le burlesque aux plaisans du Pont Neuf. 

Mais n'allez poini aussi, sur les pas de Brebeuf, 
MSme en une Pharsale, entasser sur les rives 
•De morls et de mourans cent montagnes plaintives.' 

Dioiir^dhyGoogle , 


1-118] CAKTO I. 

Great without pride, and lovely without paint. ' 
Write what your reader may be pleased to hear. 

And for the measure have a careful ear ; 

On easy nu timbers fix your happy choice; 

Of jarring sounds avoid the odious noise ; 

Tlie fullest verse, and the most labored sense) 

Displease us if the ear once take oflense. 
Our ancient verse, as homely as the times, 

Was rude, unmeasured, only tagged with rimes ; 

Number and cadence, that have since been shown, 

To those unpolished writers were unknown. 

Fairfax was he, who, in that darker age. 

By his just rales restrained poetic rage ; 

Spenser did next in pastorals excel, 

And taught the noble art of writing well, 

To stricter rales the stanza did restrain. 

And found. for fK>etry a richer vein. 

Then Davenant came, who, with a new-found art, 

Prenei mitna voire ton. Soyei timple avec art, 
Sublime sans oigueil, agr^able sans fard. 

N'oflrez ricn au lecteur que ce qui peut lui plaire; 
Ayez pour la cadence une oreiUe »*vire; 
Que toujours dans vos vers le sens coupant les niots,"^^ 
Suspende I'beniistiche, en marque le icpos. 
Garde; qu'une voyelle i courir trop hStee 
Ne soit d'une voyelle en son chemin heuit^e. 
II eit un hemeux choix de mots harmonieux. 
Fuyci des mauvaia sons le concouis odieux; 
Le vers le mieux templi, la plus noble pensfe, 
Ne peut plaiie i I'esprit quand Toteitle est blessje. 

Durant les premiers a.ns du Parnasse fran;ais 
Le caprice lout seul faisoit toutes lea lois; 
La rime, au bout des mots assembles sans mesure, 
Tenoit lieu d'omemens, de nombre et de cfeure- 
Villon sut le premier, dans ces si^cles grossiers, 
Debrouiller I'art confus de nos v 

D,o, by Google 


Changed all, spoiled all, and had his way apart ; 
His haughty muse all others did despise. 
And thought in triumph to bear off the prize. 
Till the sharp-sighted critics of the times 
In their Mock Gondibert exposed his rimes, 
The laurels he pretended did refuse, 
And dashed the hopes of his aspiring muse. 
This headstrong writer, falling from on high, 
Made following authors take less liberty. 

Waller came last, but was the first whose art 
Just weight and measure did to verse impart, 
That of a well-placed word could teach the force. 
And showed for poetry a nobler course. 
His happy genius did our tongue refine. 
And easy words with pleasing numbers join ; 
His verses to good method did apply. 
And changed hard discord to soft harmony, i.- 

Marot bienlol aprJs fit fleurir les ballades, 
Tourna des tciolets, rima des mascarades, 
A des cefrains regies assetvit les condeaux, 
Et montia pour rimer des chemins tout nouveaux. 
Ronsard, qui le auivit pat une autre methode, 
Rfglant tout, brouilla tout, tit un art ^ sa mode. 
El toutefois longtempa cut un heureux destin; 
Mais aa muse, en franfois parlant gcec et latin, 
Vil dans I'ige suivanC, par un retour grotesque, 
Tombet de ses grands mols Ic faste p6dantesque. 
Ce po6te orgueilleux, trebuchfi de si haul, 
Rendit plus letenos Despottes et Bertaut. 

Enfin Malherbe virt, et, le premier en France, 
Fit sentir dans les vers une juste cadence, 
D'un mot mis en sa place enseigna le pouvoir, 
Et reduisit la muse aux regies du devoir. 
Par ce sage ecrivain la langue riparee 
N'offril plus rien de rude i I'oreille Sputie; 
Les stances avec grSce apprtrent i tomber. 

D,o, by Google 


^li owned his laws ; which, long approved and tried. 
To present authors now may be a guide ; 
Tread boldly in his steps, secure from fear, 
And be, like him, in your expressions clear. (. 
If in your verse you drag, and sense delay. 
My patience tires, my fancy goes astray, 
And from your vain discourse I turn my mind. 
Nor search an author troublesome to find. 

There is a kind of writer pleased with sound, 
Whose fustian head with clouds is compassed round — 
No reason can disperse them with its light ; 
Learn then to think ere 'you pretend to write. ' 
As your idea's clear, or ebe obscure. 
The expression follows, perfect or impure ; 
What we conceive with ease we can express ; 
Words to the notions flow with readiness. 

Observe the language well in all you write, " 
And swerve not from it in your loftiest flight- 

Et le vers sur le vera n'osa plus enjaniber. 

Tout reconnut ses lois; et ce guide fidele 

Aux auteuTS de ce temps sert encor de module; 

Marchez done sur ses pas; aimez sa purete, 

Et de son tour heureux imilei la clart£. 

Si le sens de vos vers tarde ^ se faire entendre, 

Mon esprit aussitdt commence k se delendre; 

Et, de vos vaios discoura prompt k se detacher, 

Ne suit point un auteur qu'il faut toujuurs chercher. 

II est certains esprits dont les sombies pens^s 
tjont d'un nuage epais loujours embartassees — 
Le jour de la raisoi) ne le sauroit percer; 
Avant done que d'^crire, apprenez ^ penser. 
Selon que notre id£e est plus on moins obscure, 
L'expression la suit, ou moins nette ou plus pure; 
Ce que I'on confoit bien s'enonce clairement, 
Et les mots pour le dire arrivent aisement. 

Surtout, qu'en vos £cnU la tangue r£ver6e 

Dpi 7?dhy Google 


The smoothest verse and the exactest sense 

Displease us, if ill English give offense ; 

A barbarous phrase no reader can approve, 

Nor bombast, noise, or affectation love. 

In short, without pure language, what you write 

Can never yield us profit or delight. 

Take time for thinking ; never work in haste ; 
And value not yourself for writing fast ; i-- 

A rapid poem, with such fury writ, 
Shows want of judgment, not abounding wit. 
More pleased we are to see a river lead 
His gentle streams along a flowery mead, 
Than from high banks to hear loud torrents roar. 
With foamy waters, on a rauddy shore. 
Gently make haste, of labor not afraid ; 
A hundred times consider what you've said ; ^ 
Polish, repolish, every color lay, 

Dana vos plus grands exces vous soit toujours saciee. 
En vain vous mc fiappez d'un son mflodieux, 
Si le lerme est impropre, ou le tour vicieux; 
Mon esprit n'admet puint un pompeux barbaiisme, 
Ni d'un vers ampoule I'oigueiUeux soUcisme. 
Sans U langue, en un mot, I'auteur le plus divin, 
Est toujours, quoi qu'il fasse, un mechant ecrivain. 
Travaillez h loisir, quelque ordre qui vous presse. 
Et ne vous piquez point d'une folle vitesse ; 
Un style si rapide, et qui court en rimant, 
Matque moins trop d'esprit, que peu de jugement. 
J'aime mieux un ruisseau qui sur la molle arene 
Dana un prf plein de fleuts lentemcnt se promene, 
Qu'un torrent diborde qui, d'un cours orageux, 
Roule, plein de graviet, sur un terrain fangeux. 
HStez-vous lentement; el, sans pcrdre courage, 
Vingt fois sut le metier remcttez voire ouvrage; 
Folissez-le sans cesse et le repotissez; 
Ajoutez quelquefois, el souvent effacez. 

D,o, by Google 

And sometimes add, but oftener take away, 

Tia not enough, when swarming faults are writ, 
That here and there are scattered sparks of wit ; 
Each object must be fixed in the due place. 
And differing parts have corresponding grace ; 
Till, by a curious art disposed, we find 
One perfect whole of all the pieces joined. 
Keep to your subject close in all you say. 
Nor for a sounding sentence ever stray. 

The public censure for your writings fear. 
And to yourself be critic most severe, ik^ . 
Fantastic wits their darling follies love j 
But find you faithful friends that will reprove. 
That on your works may look with carefiil eyes, 
And of your faults be zealous enemies. 
Lay by an author's pride and vanity. 
And fi-om a friend a flatterer descry, 
Who seems to like, but means not what he says ; 
Embrace true counsel, but suspect false praise. 

C'est peu qu'en un ouvrage ou les faules founniUent, 
Des traits d'espiil sem£s de temps en temps peliUenL 
11 Taut que chaque chose y soil mise en son lieu. 
Que le debut, la fin, r^pondent au milieu; 
Que d'un art dclicat les piSces assorties 
N'y fonneni qu'un seul tout de diverses parties; 
Que jamais du sujet le discours a'£cartant 
N'aille chercher trop loin quelque mot eclatant. 

Ctaignez-vous pour vob vers la censure publique? 
Soyez-vous i vous-mSme un severe critique; 
L'ignorance toujours est prSte k s'admirer, 
Faites-vous des amis prompts i vous ccnsurer; 
Qu'iU soient de voa ecrits les confidens sinceres, 
Et de tons vos defauts les zel£s adversaires. 
D^pouillez devant eux I'atrogance d'auteur, 
Mais sachez de I'ami discemer le flatteur — 
Tel vous seinble applaudir, qui vous raille et vous joue. 

D,o, by Google 


A sycophant will everything admire ; 
Each verse, each sentence, sets his soul on fire ; 
All is divine ! there's not a word amiss ! 
He shakes with joy, and weeps with tenderness ; 

He overpowers you with his mighty praise. 
Truth never moves in those impetuous ways. 

A faithful friend is careful of your fame, 
And freely will your heedless errors blame ; 
He cannot pardon a neglected line. 
But verse to rule and order will confine, 
Reprove of words the too-afTected sound, — 
' Here the sense flags, and your expression's round 
Your fancy tires, and your discourse grows vain. 
Your terms improper ; make it just and plain.' 
Thus 'tis a faithful friend will freedom use. 

But authors partial to their darling muse 
Think to protect it they have just pretense, 
And at your friendly counsel take offense. 

Aimu qu'on vous conseille, ct non pas qu'on vous loue. 

Vn flatteur aussi(6( cherche b se recrier; 
Chaque vers qu'il entend U fait extasier; 
Tout est charmant, divin; aucun mot ne le blesse; 
II iT^pigne de joie, il pleute de tendtesse; 
U vous comble partout d'eloges fastueux. 
La viriti n'a point cet air impetueux. 

Un sage ami, toujours rigoureux, inflexible, 
Sur vos fautes Jamais ne vous laisse paisible; 
II ne pardonne point lea endroits n£glig£s, 
11 renvoie en leur lieu les vera mal arranges, 
II t^prime des mots I'amhitieuse empbssei 
Ici le sent le choque, et plus loin c'est la phrase. 
'Voice consttuctioti semble un peu s'ohscurcir; 
Ce tenne est Equivoque, il le faul ^claiceir,' — 
Cest ainsi que vous parte un ami veritable. 

Mais souvent sur ses vers un auteur intraitable 
A les protiger tous se iroit int6resse. 

D,o, by Google 

228] CANTO I. i; 

' Said you of this, thai the expression's flat? 

Your servant, sir, you must excuse me that,' 

He answers you. — ' This word has here no grace, 

Pray leave it out.' — ' That, sir, 's the properest place.' - 

' This turn I like not.' — ' "Tis approved by all.' 

Thus, resolute not from one fault to fall. 

If there's a symbol of which you doubt, 

Tis a sure reason not to blot it out. 

Vet still he says you may his faults confute. 

And over him your power is absolute. 

But of his feigned humility take heed, 

Tis a bait laid to make you hear him read ; 

And, when he leaves you, happy in his Muse, 

Restless he runs some other to abuse. 

And often finds ; for in our scribbling times 

No fool can want a sot to praise his rimes ; 

The flattest work has ever in the court 

Et d'abord prend en main le droit de rofTcnse. 3 

' De ce vers,' direi-vous, ' I'expression est basse.' — 

' Ah 1 monsieur, pour ce vers jc vous demande grice,' 

Repondra-t-il d'abord. — ' Ce mot me semble froid; 

Je le retrancherois.' — 'C'eat !e plus bel endtoit!' — 

'Ce tour ne me plait pas.' — 'Tout le monde I'admire.' ! 

Ainsi toujour^ constant !k ne se point dfiJiie, 

Qu'un mot dans son ouvrage ait paiu vous blessei, 

C'esl un litre chei lui pout ne point Teffacer. 

Ccpendant. k I'entendre, il cherit la critique; 

Vous avez sur ces vers un pouvoit despotifjue; ! 

Mais tout ce beau discouis doni il vient vous Halter 

N'est rien qu'un piige adroit pout vous Ice reciter. 

AuswtSt il vous quitte; et, content de sa muse, 

S'en va chetcher ailleurs quelque fat qu'il abuse, 

Car souvent il en Irouve; ainsi qu'en sots auteurs, i 

Notre sidcle est fertile en sols admiiateurs; 

Et, sans ceux que fournit la. ville et la province, 

II en eat ehez le due, il en est chei le prince. 



Met with some zealous ass for its support ; 
And in all times a forward scribbling fop 
Has found some greater fool to cry him up. 

L'oDTTage le plus plat a, chez les conrtisans, 
De tout temps renconb^ de zi\ei partisans; 
Et, pom litiir enlin par un trait de satire, 
Un cot ttouve toujour! un plus sot qui radmire. 

D,o, by Google 


AS a fair nymph, when rising from her bed, 
With sparkling diamonds dresses not her head. 
But without gold, or pearl, or cosily scents. 
Gathers from neighboring fields her ornaments ; 
Such, lovely ih its dress, but plain withal. 
Ought to appear a perfect PastoraL. '•- ' 
Its humble method nothing has of fierce, 
But hates the rattling of a lofty verse ; 
There native beauty pleases and excites. 
And never with harsh sounds the ear affrights. 

But in this style a poet often spent. 
In rage throws by his rural instrument. 
And vainly, when disordered thoughts abound. 
Amidst the eclogue makes the trumpet sound ; 
Pan flies alarmed into the neighboring woods, 

TELLE qu'une hecgite, au plus beau jour de fSte, 
De superbes rubis ne charge point sa tSte, 
Et, sans mSler & Tor t'eclat des diamans, 
Cueille en UD champ vojsin ses plus beaux ornemens; 
Telle, aiiuable en son air, mais humble dans son style. 
Doit eclater sans pompe une £l£gante idylle. 
Son tour simple et naif n'a rien de faatueui, 
Et n'aime point I'orgueil d'un vets prfeomptueux; 
II faut <|ue sa douceur flatte, chatouille, SveiUe, 
Et jamais de grands mots n'^pouvante I'oreille. 

Mais souvent dans ce style un limeur aux abois 
Jette lik, de depit, la tlflte et 1e hautbois, 
Et, foUcment pompeux dans sa verve indiscrete, 
Au milieu d'une jglogue entonne la trompette; 
De peur de l'£contei, Fan fuit dans les roseanx. 

D,o, by Google 


And frighted nymphs dive down into the floods. 

Upposed to this, another, low in style, 
Makes shepheids speak a language low and vile ; 
His writings, flat and heavy, without sound. 
Kissing the earth and creeping on the gruund ; 
Vou'd swear that Randal, in his rustic strains, 
Again was quavering to the country swainii, 
And changing, without care of sound or dress, 
Strephon and Phyllis into Tom and Bess. 

'Twi-Kt these extremes 'tis hard to keep the right ; 
For guitles take Virgil and read Theocrile : 
Be their just writings, by the gods inspirfd. 
Your constant pattern, practised and ailniired. 
By them alone you'll easily comprehend 
How poets without shame may condescend 
To sing of gardens, fields, of Howers and fruit. 
To stir up shepherds .and to tune the flute ; 
Of love's rewards to tell the happy hour, 

Et les nymphes, il'effroi, se cachenl sous ks eaux. 

Au coiitraire tel autru, alijcgl cii son laiigage, 
Fait pailcr kh bcrgeis coiiime on park au village; 
Sei vet» plats ol gtos^ers, d^pouill^s iraKcemeiu, 
Tuujouts baisent la teiic, rt rampijiit Iristement; 
On iliioit ijue Kunsaid, sur ses pipeaux riistiques, 
VienI eaan fredunnur s«s idylles golhiques, 
Kt changi-i:, sails reject do I'oreille et du son, 
l.ycidas en Pierrot, ct I'hilis en Toinon. 

Entre ii^s di^ux exccs la route t-ai difficile; 
Suivei, jxiui la Iruuver, Thtocrite el Mrgile; 
(Juc leurs leiidres et:iits, par les IJrSces dictes. 

Ne iiuiUent point 

vos main 

s, jour et 

nuit feniUet^ 

Seula, dans leuis 

doclea vei 

■s, il3 pourronl vous apprentlr 

Par quel ait ^ds 

basscBse i 

un auteur 

peut desceodre; 

Oianter Hore, le: 

s champs, 


les vertfen; 

Au combat de ll 

flftle aniu 

ler ileuji 


Des plaisirs de t'l 

imoor van 

Ut la d.n 

ice amorce; 


Daphne a tree, Narcissus make a flower, 
And by what means the eclogue yet has power 
To make the woods worthy a conqueror ; 
This of their writings is the grace and flight ; 
Their risings lofty, yet not out of sight. 

The Elegy, that loves a mournful style. 
With unbound hair weeps at a funeral pile ; 
It paints the lover's torments and delights, 
A mistress flatters, threatens, and invites ; 
But well these raptures if you'll make us see, 
You must know love as well as poetry. 

I hate those lukewarm authors, whose forced fire / 
In a cold style describes a hot desire ; / 

That sigh by rule, and, raging in cold blood, 
Their sluggish muse whip to an amorous mood. 
Their feigned transports appear but flat and vain ; '■ 
They always sigh, and always hug their chain, 
Adore their prisons and their sufferings bless. 

Changer Narcisse en fleur, couvric Daphni d'ecorce; 
Et pat quel art encor I'eglogue quelquefois 
Rend dignes d'un coti9ul la campagne et les buis. 
Telle est de ce poeme et la force et la grSce. 

D'un tun un peu plus haut, mais pourlant sans audace, 
La plaintive ^legie, en longs habits de deuil, 
Sail, les cheveux ^paca, gcmir sur un eercueil. 
Elle peint des amans ta joie et la ttistesse; 
Flatte, menace, irrite, apaise une maltresse. 
Mais, pour bien ex primer ces caprices heureux, 
C'est peu d'etre pocte, il faut Hre amoureux. 

Je hais ces vains auteurs, dont k muse forc£e 
M'entretient de ses feux, toujoucs froide et gkcfe; 
Qui s'afiligenl par art, et, foua de sens rassis, 
S'^rigent. pour rimer, en amoureux transis. 
Leurs transports les plus doux ne sont que phrases valnes; 
lis ne savent jamais que Se charger de chalnes, 
Que b£nir leur martyre, adorer leur prison, 

D,o, by Google 


Make sense and reason quarrel as they please. 
Twas not of old in this affected tone 
That smooth Tibullus made his amorous moan. 
Nor Ovid, when, instructed from above. 
By nature's rule he taught the art of love. 
The heart in elegies forms the discourse. ^ 
■-The Ode is bolder and has greater force ; 
Mounting to heaven in her ambitious flight. 
Amongst the gods and heroes takes delight ; 
Of Pisa's wrestlers telb the sinewy force. 
And sings the dusty conqueror's glorious course ; 
To Simois' streams does fierce Achilles bring, 
And makes the Ganges bow to Britain's king. 
Sometimes she flies like an industrious bee. 
And robs the flowers by nature's chemistry. 
Describes the shepherd's dances, feasts, and bliss. 
And boasts from Phyllis to surprise a kiss, 
' When gently she resists with feigned remorse, 

Et foire quereller les sens e( la raison. 

Ce n'jtoit pas jadis sui ce ton ridicule. 

Qu' Amour dictoit les vers que soupiroit Tibulle, 

Ou que du tendre Ovide animant les doux sons, 

11 donnoit de son art les charmantes lemons. 

11 faut que le creur seul parle dans I'el^gie. 

L'ode, avec plus d'ickt, et non nioins d'energie, 
6levant jusqu'au ciel son vol ambitieux, 
Enttetient <lans ses vers commerce avec les dicui; 
Aux alhlStea dans Pise elle ouvre la barriere, 
Chanle un vainqueur poudreux au bout de la carriire; 
M£ne Acbille saiiglant au boid du Simois, 
Ou Tail flechir I'Escaut sous le joug de Li>uis. 
TautSt, comme une abeille ardente ^ son ouvnge, 
Elle s'en va de fleurs djpouiller le rivage; 
Elle peint les festins, les danses et les risj 
Vante un baiscr cueilli sur les livres d'liis, 
'Qui moUemenl r^ste, et, par un duui caprice. 

D,o, by Google 

That what she grants may seem to be by force.' 
Her generous style at random oft will part. 
And by a brave disorder shows her art. 

Unlike those fearful poets, whose cold rime 
In all their raptures keeps exactest time ; 
That sing the illustrious hero's mighty praise — 
Lean writers ! — by the terms of weeks and days, 
And dare not from least circumstances part, 
But take all towns by strictest rules of art. 
Apollo drives those fops from his abode ; 
And some have said that once the humorous god 
Resolving all such scribblers to confound, 
j--For the short Sonnet ordered this strict bound, 
Set rules for the just measure and the time. 
The easy running and alternate rime ; 
But, above all, those licenses denied 

Quelquefois le refuse, afin qu'on le ravisse.' 
Son style impetueax aouvenl marche bu hasard; 
Chez elle un beau dfsordre est un efTct de t'ait. 

~Loin ces rimeurs ciuntifs, dont Tesfitit flegtnatique 
Garde dans 3es fureurs un ordre didactique; 
Qui, chantant d'un heros les progres ectatans, 
Maigres hialotiens, auivronC I'ordre des tempa. 
Its n'oseiit un moment perdre un sujet de vue; 
Pour prendre D&le, il faut que Lilte soil rendue, 
Et que leur vers, exact ainsi que Mezerai, 
Ait fait dej& tomber les remparts de Cuurtrai. 
Apollon de son feu teut fut toujonrs avarc. 
On dit, h ce propos, qu'un jour ce dieu bizarre, 
Voulant pousaer i bout tous les rimenrs fran^ois, 
Inventa du sonjiel les rigoureusea loia; 
Voulut qu'en deux quatrains de mesure pateille. 
La rime avec deux sons frapplt buit fois Toreilte; 
El qu'ensuite six vers artistement ranges 
Fussent en deux tercets par le sens partag&. 
!^urt'>ut de ce poeme il bannit la licence : 

D,o, by Google 


Which in these writings the lame sense supplied. 
Forbade a useless line should find a. pUce, 
Or a repeated word appear with grace. 
A faultless sonnet, finished thus, would be 
Worth tedious volumes of loose poetry. 
A hundred scribbling authors, without ground. 
Believe they have this only phoenix found, 
When yet the exactest scarce have two or three, 
Among whole tomes, from faults and censure free ; 
The rest, but little read, regarded less. 
Are shoveled to the pastry from the press. 
Closing the sense within the measured time, 
Tis hard to fit the reason to the rime. 

tThe Epigram, with little art composed. 
Is one good sentence in a distich closed. 
These points that by Italians first were prized. 
Our ancient authors knew not, or despised ; 
The vulgar, dazzled with their glaring light, 

Lui-mSme en mesura 1e nombce el la cadence; 90 

DJfendit qu'un vers foible y p(tt jamais etitrer, 

Ni qu'un mot dejk mis osit s'y remontrer. 

Du reste, il renrichil d'une beaul^ suptSme; 

Un sonnet Sana defauts vant aeul un long poeme. 

Mais en vain mille auteurs y penseni arrivec; 9S 

A peine dans Gombaut, Maynard et Malleville 
En peuC-on admirer deux ou trois entie mille; 
Le reste, aussi peu 1u que ceux de Pelletier, 
N'a fait de chei Sercy qu'un saut chez I'epicier. 100 

Pour enfenner son sens dans la borne preserite. 
La mesuce est toujours Crop tongue et trop petite. 
L'epigramme, plus libte en son tour plus burni, 
N'est souvent qu'un bon root de deux rimes omf. - 

Jadis de nos auieors lea pointes ignor^es los 

Furent de I'ltalie en nos vers attirees. 
Le vulgaire, Sbloui de leur faux agrement. 

D,o, by Google 

To their faise pleasures quickly they invite ; 
But public lavor so increased their pride, 
They overwhelmed Parnassus with their tide, 
Whe Madrigal at first was overcome, 
And the proud Sonnet fell by the same doom ; 
With these grave Tragedy adorned her flights, 
And mournful Elegy her funeral rites ; 
A hero never failed them on the stage. 
Without his point a lover durst not rage ; 
The amorous shepherds took more care to prove 
True to his point, than faithful to their love. 
Each word, like Janus, had a double face, 
And prose, as well as verse, allowed it place ; 
The lawyer with conceits adorned his speech, 
The parson without quibbling could not preach. 

At last affronted reason looked about. 
And from all serious matters shut them out. 
Declared that none should use them without shame, 

A ce nouvel appSt coucul avidement; 
La faveuT du public excitant leui audace, 
Leur nombte impflueux inonda le PainasEe. 
Le madrigal d'abord en fut enveloppf; 
Le sonnet orgueiltem lui-niSme en fut ftappe; 
La tragfdie en fit ses plus chores dflices; 
L'elfgie en orna ses douloureux caprices; 
Un heros sui la scene eut soin de s'en parer, 
El sans pointe un amant n'osa plus soupirer: 
On vit tous les bergera, dans leura plaintes nouvelles. 
Fiddles Ik la pointe encore plus qu'& kurs belle!; 
Chaque mot eut toujours deux visages divers; 
La prose la re(ul aussi bien que les vers; 
L'avocat au palais en b^tissa son style, 
Et le docleut en chairc en sema I'^vangile. 
La raiaon outtagee enHn ouvrit les yeux, 
La chassa pout jamais des discours s^rieux; 
Et, dans (ous ces Merits la declarant inrime. 

D,o, by Google 


Except a scattering in the epigram — 
Provided that by art, and in due time, 
They turned upon the thought, and not the rime. ^ 
Thus in all parts disorders did abate ; 
Yet quibblers in the court had leave to prate, 
Insipid jesters and unpleasant fools, 
A corporation of dull punning drolls, 
Tis not but that sometimes a dextrous muse 
May with advantage a turned sense abuse. 
And on a word may trifle with address ; 
■ But above all avoid the fond excess. 
And think not, when your verse and sense are lame. 
With a dull point to tag your epigram. 

Each poem his perfection has apart : ' 
The British Round in plainness shows his art ; 
The Ballad, though the pride of ancient time, 
Has often nothing but his humorous rime ; 
The Madrigal may softer passions move, 

Far grace lui laissa I'entcee en I'epigcamme, 
Fourvu que aa finesse, icialant ^ propos, 
RoulSt sue la pehsee, et non pas aut tes mots, 
Ainsi 'de toutes parts les desotdtes cess&tenL 
Toulefois a la cour les Turlupina resterent, 
Insipides plaisans, boufTons infoctunis, 
D'un jeu de mots grassier partisans surann^s. 
Ce n'est pas quelquefois qu'une muse uu peu fine 

Et d'un sens detoucne n'abuse avec succes; 
Mais fuyez sur ce point un ridicule exc^s, 
Et n'allez pas toujours d'une points frivole 
Aiguiser par la queue une ^pigramme fulle. 

Tot^ poeme est brillant de sa propre beaute; 
Le rondeau, n£ gaulois, a la naivet^; 
La ballade, asservie ^ ks vieilles maximes, 
Souvent doit tout son lustre au caprice des rimes; 
Le madrigal, plus simple et plua noble en son tour, 

D,o, by Google 

-161J CANTO 11. 

And breathe the tender ecstasies of love. 
Desire to show Itself, and not to wrong, 
Armed Virtue first with Satire in its tongue. 
Lucilius was the man, who, bravely bold, 
To Roman vices did this mirror hold. 
Protected humble goodness from reproach, 
Showed worth on foot, and rascals in the coach, 
Horace his pleasing wit to this did add. 
And none uncensured could be fool or mad ; 
Unhappy was that wretch whose name might be 
Squared to the rules of their sharp poetry ! 
Persitis obscure, but full of sense and wit, 
Affected brevity in all he writ. 
And Juvenal, learned as those times could be, 
Too far did stretch his sharp hyperbole ; 
Though horrid truths through all his labors shine. 
In what he writes there's something of divine, — 
Whether he blames the Caprean debauch, 

Respire la douceur, la tendresse et ramour. 

L'aideur de se montrer, et non pas de rafidire, 
Aima. la Verity du vera de la. satire. 
LuciU le premier usa la faire voir. 
Aim vices des Romains prescnta le miroir, 
Vengea I'humble vertu de la richesse allidre, 
Et I'honnSte homme h pied du faquin en liCiSre. 
Horace i cette aigreur mSIa son enjouement ; 
On ne fut plus ni fat ni sot impunement ; 
Et malheuc i tout noni qui, propre !l la censure, 

Perse, en ses vers obscurs, mais serrfs et pressans, 
AiTecIa d'enlermer moins de mots que de sens. 
Juvenal, elevi dans les cris de I'ecole, 
Poussa jusqu'a I'exces sa mordanle hyperbole; 
Ses ouvrages, lous pleins d'affreuses vSritis, 
Etinccllent pourtant de sublimes beautis, — 
Soit que, sur un jcrit arrive de Capife. 

D,o, by Google 


Or of Sejanus' fall tetis the approach ; 

Or that he makes the trembling senate come 

To the stem tyrant to receive their doom ; 

Or Roman vice in coarsest habits shows, 

And paints an empress reeking from the stews. 

In all he writes appears a noble fire ; 

To follow such a master then desire. 

Chaucer alone, fixed on this solid base, 
In his old style conserves a modern grace, 
Too happy, if the freedom of his rimes 
Offended not the method of our times. 
The Latin writers decency neglect, 
But modem authors challenge our respect, 
And at immodest writings take offense, 
If clean expression cover not the sense. 

I love sharp satire from obsceneness free,. 
Not impudence that preaches modesty. 

II biise de S^jsn la statue adoree, 

Soil qu'il fasse au conaeil courir les s&nateura, 

D'un tyran souptonneux pSIes adulateun, 

Ou que, poussant & bout la luxute latine, 

Auk poitefaix de Kome il vende Messaline, 

Ses Merits pleins de feu paitout brillent aux ytux. 

De ces maltres savans disciple ingenicux, 
Regnier, seul parmi nous forme sur leurs modeles, 
Dans son vieux style encore a des graces nouvelies; 
HeureUK, si aea diacours, crainls du chaste lecteur, 
Ne se sentoient des tieux oA ftequentoit I'auteur, 
EE si, du son hardi de ses limes cyniques, 
II h'alarmoit aouvent les oreilles pudiquesi 
^ Le taCin, dans les mots, brave I'honn^tetj, 
Mais le lecteur ftan^ois veul Stre respecle; 
Da moindre sens impui la liberte I'oultage, 
Si la pudeur des mots n'en adoucil 1' image. 
Je veux dans la satire un esprit de catideur, 
Et fuis un effront6 qui ptScbe la pudeur. 


we] CANTO 11. 1 

Our English, who in malice never fail, 
Hence in Lampoons and Libels learn lo rail, — 
Pleasant detraction, that by singing goes 
From mouth to mouth, and as it marches grows ; 
Our freedom in our poetry we see. 
That child of joy begot by liberty. 
But, vain blasphemer, tremble when you choose 
(5Qd_fgiL the sulyect of your impious muse; > 
At last those jests which libertines invent '' ^ 
Bring the lewd author to just punishment. 
Even in a sbng there must be art and sense ; 
Yet sometimes we have seen that wine or chance 
Has warmed cold brains, and given dull writers mettle. 
And furnished out a scene for Mr. Settle. 
But for one lucky hit that made thee please, 
Let not thy folly grow lo a disease. 
Nor think thyself a wit ; for in our age 
If a warm fancy does some fop engage, 

D'un trait de ce poeme en bons inola si ieitile, 
Le Francois, ne malin, forma le vaudeville, 
Agrfable indisctet, qui, conduit par le chant, 
Passe de bouche en bouche el s'accrolt en marchant; 
La liberte fian^oise en aes vers se deploie; 
Cet enfant de plaisir veut naltre dans la joie. 
Toutefois n'allei pas, goguenard dangeieux, 
Faiie Dieu le sujet d'un badinage affieux; 
A la tin tous ces jeux que I'atheisme elfve, 
Conduisent IristemenI le plaisant S la Greve. 
II faul, loSme en chansons, du bon sens el de I'art; 
Mais pourtant on a vu le vin et le hasard 
Inspirer quelquefois une muse grossidre, 
Et fouinir, sans g6nie, un couplet i Linidie. 
Mais pour un vain bonheur qui vous a fait rimer, 
Gardez qu'un sot otgueil ne vous vienne enfumer. 
Souvent I'auteur altier de quetque cliansonnette 
Au mgme instant prend droit de se croiie pogtei 



He neither eats nor sleeps till he has writ. 
But plagues the world with his adulterate wit 
Nay 'tis a wonder if, in his dire rage. 
He prints not his dull follies for the stage, 
And, in the front of all his senseless plays. 
Makes David Lo^an crown his head with bays. 

II ne donnira plus qu'il n'ait fait un sonnet; 
II met tous les matins six impromptus au net. 
Encore est-ce un miracle, en ses vagues furies. 
Si Menl3t, imprimanl se» soltes rSveries, 
11 ne se fait graver au-devant du recueil, * 

Gniconne de lauriers par la main de NanteuiL 

D,o,i..dh,Goo^^le \ 



THERE'S not a monster bred beneath the sky, 
But, well-disposed by art, may please the eye ; 
A curious workman, by his skill divine, i 
From an ill object makes a good design. / 
Thus to delight us. Tragedy, in tears 
For (Edipus, provokes our hopes and fears ; 
For parricide Orestes asks relief, 
And to increase our pleasure, causes grief. 

Vou then that in this noble art would rise, 
Come and in lofty verse dispute the prize. 
Would you upon the stage acquire renown. 
And for your judges summon all the town? 
Would you your works forever should remain. 
And after ages past be sought again? 
In all you write observe with care and art 

IL n'est point de serpent ni de monstre odieux, 
Qui, pat I'arl imite, ne puiase plaire aui yeux; 
D'un pinceau dilicat I'arlHice agreable 
Du plus affreux ohjet fait un objet aimable. 
Ainsi, pour nous charmer, la tra^^die en pleurs 
D'tEdipe tout sanglant fit parler les douleurs, 
D'Oreate parricide exprima les atarmea, 
Et, pour nous divettit, nous arracha des larmes. 

Vous done, qui d'un beau feu pout ie th^Stre tpris, 
Venez en vers pompeui y disputer le ptix, 
Voulez'vous sur la seine elaler des ouvrages 
Oi tout Paris en foule apporte ses suffrages, 
Et qui, toujour; plus beaux, plus ils sont regard^s, 
Soient au bout de vingt ans encor redemandSs? 
Que dans tous vos discouis la passion €nint 

D,o, by Google 


To move the passions and incline the heart. 
If in a labored act, the pleasing rage 
Cannot our hopes and fears by turns engage, 
Nor in our mind a feeling pity raise, 
In vain with learned scenes you fill your plays ; 
Your cold discourse can never move the mind 
Ofa stem critic, naturally unkind, 
Who, justly tired with your pedantic flight, 
Or falls asleep or censures all you write. 
The secret is, attention first to gain, -- 
To move our minds and then to entertain,\^ 
That, from the very opening of the scenes, 
The first may show us what the author means. 

I'm tired to see an actof on the stage 
That knows not whether he's to laugh or rage ; 
Who, an intrigue unraveling in vain. 
Instead of pleasing keeps my mind in pain. 
I'd rather much the nauseous dunce should say 

Aille chercher le c<Eur, I'echauffe et le temue. 
Si d'un beau mouvement I'agriable fureur 
Souvent ne nous remplit d'une douce lerteur, 
Ou n'excite en notre Sme une pitie charmante, 
En vain vous iulez une seine savante ; 
Vos froids raisonnemens ne feionl qu'attiedir 
Un speetateur toujours patesseux d'applaudir, 
Et <]ui, des vains efforts de votte rhJtorique 
Justement fatigue, s'endort ou vous critique. 
Le secret est d'abord de plaite et de toucher; 
Inventei des ressorts qui puissent m'attacher. 
Que dfs lea premiers vers I'aclion pr^parie 
Sans peine du sujcl aplanisse I'entree. 
Je me ris d'un acteur qui, lent i s'exprimer, 
De cc qu'il veut, d'abord ne sail pas m'informer, 
Et qui, dfbrouillant mal une pfnible intrigue, 
D'un diverlissement me fait une fatigue. 
J'aimerois mieux encor qu'il d^clin&t son nom, 

D,o, by Google 

ii^ CANTO 111. 

Downright, ' My name is Hector in the play,' 
Than with a mass of miracles, ill-joined, 
Confound my ears, and not instruct my mind. 
The subject's never soon enough expressed. 

Your place of action must be fixed, and rest. 
A Spanish poet may with good event 
In one day's space whole ages represent ; 
There oft the hero of the wandering stage 
Begins a child, and ends the play of age. 
But we, that are by reason's rule confined, 
VVill that with art the poem be designed, 
That unity of action, time, and place, X' 
Keep the stage full, and all our labors grace. A 

Write not what cannot be with ease conceived ; 
Some truths may be too strong to be believed. 
A foolish wonder cannot entertain ; 
My mind's not moved if your discourse be vain. 
You may relate what would offend the eye ; 

£t iltt, 'Je suis Oreste ou Men Agamemnon,' 
Que d'atler, par un tas de confuses merveiUes 
Sans rien dire i 1 'esprit, ^louidit les oreilles; 
Le Eujet n'est jamais assez iSt expliqu^. 

Qae le lieu de la sc^ne y soit (ixe et marque. 
Un rimeur, sana pfril, deli lea Pyrenees, 
Sui la seine en un jour rcnreime des ann£e$; 
L^ souvent le h^ros d'un spectacle grassier. 
Enfant au premier acte, est ba.rbon an dernier- 
Mais nous, que la raison i ses regies engage, 
Nous voulona qu'avec ajt Faction se menage; 
Qu'en un lieu, qu'en un jour, un seul fait accompli 
Tienne jusqu'ii la da le theStce rempli. 

Jamais au spectateur n'ofirez rien d'incroyable; 
Le vrai pent quclquefois n'Stre pas vraisemblable. 
Une merveille absucde est pour moi sans appas; 
L'esptit n'est point emu de ce qu'il ne croit pas. 
Ce qu'on ne doit point voir, qu'un recit nous I'expose; 

D,o, by Google 


Seeing indeed would better satisfy, 

But there are objects which a curious art 

Hides from the eyes, yet offers to the heart. 

The mind is most agreeably surprised^^ 
When a well-woven subject, long disguised, 
You on a sudden artfully unfold, 
And give the whole another face and mold. 

At first the Tragedy was void of art, 
A song, where each man danced and sung his part, 
And of god Bacchus roaring out the praise, 
Sought a good viDtage for their jolly days ; 
Then wine and joy were seen in each man's eyes. 
And a. fat goat was the best singer's prize. 
,-Thespis was first, who, all besmeared with lee. 
Began this pleasure for posterity. 
And with his carted actors and a song 
Amused the people as he passed along. 

Les yenx en le voyant saisiraient mieux la chose, 
Mais il est des objets que I'art judicieux 
Doit offrii !k I'oreille et rcciUer des yeia. 

Que le trouble, touJDurs croissant de scene en scjne, 
A son comble arrive se d£brouille sans peine. 
L'espril ne se sent point plus vivement frappf 
Que lursqu'en un aujet d'intrigue enveloppf, 
D'un secret tout i coup la v^rite connue 
Change tout, donne i tout une face imprevue. 

La tragedie, inForme et grossicre en naissant, 
N'^toit qu'un aiinple choeur, on chacun, en danaani 
£t du dieu des raisins entonnant tes louanges, 
S'effor^oit d'attirer de fertiles vendanges. 
Li, le vin et la joie eveillant les eaprils, 
Du plus habile chantre un bouc etoit le prix. 
Thespia fut le premier qui, barbouille de lie, 
Promena par les liourgs celte lieureuae folie, 
Et, d'acteurs mal ornjs chargcant un tombereau, 
Amusa les passans d'un spectacle nouveau. 

D,o, by Google 

;t] canto III. 

Next ^schylus the different persons placed, 
■ And with a better mask his players graced, 
Upon a theatre his verse expressed. 
And showed his hero with a buskin dressed. 
Then Sophocles, the genius of his age. 
Increased the pomp and beauty of the stage, 
Engaged the Chorus song in every part. 
And polished rugged verse by rules of art ; . 
He in the Greek did those perfections gain 
Which the weak Latin never could attain. 
Our pious fathers, in their priest-rid age. 
As impious and profane abhorred the stage. 
A troop of silly pilgrims, as 'tis said, 
Foolishly zealous, scandalously played, 
Instead of heroes and of love's complaints. 
The angels, God, the Virgin, and the saints. 
At last right reason did his laws reveal. 
And showed the folly of their ill-placed zeal, 
Silenced those nonconformists of the age, 

Eschyle dans le c]i«eai jeta les personnages, 
D'un masque plus honnSte habilla les visages, 
Sur lea ais d'un theStre en public cxhauss^ 
Fit paroltre I'acteur d'un brodequin chaussf. 
Sophocle enlin, donnant I'essor !l son genie, 
Accnit encoi ta pompe, augmenta I'hannonie, 
Int^cessa Is chceur dans toute faction, 
Des veis trop raboteux polit I'expression, 
Lui donna chez Us Grecs celte hauteur divine 
Oi^ jamais n'atteignil la foiblcsse latine. 

Chez nos devots aleux le th^ittre ahhorrf 
Ful longtemps dans la France un plaisir ignor*. 
De peleriij^ dit-on, une troupe grossiece 
En public i. Paris y monia la premiere; 
El, sotlement z«1£e en sa simplicile, 
Joua les Saints, la VierBe, et Dieu, par pi6l£. 
Le savoic, i la Hn, dissipant I'ignorance, 

D,o, by Google 


And raised the lawful heroes of the stage ; 
Only the Athenian mask was laid aside. 
And Chorus by the music was supplied. 

Ingenious love, inventive in hew arts, 
Mingled in plays, and quickly touched our hearts ; 
This passion never could resistance find, 
But knows the shortest passage to the mind. 
Paint then, I'm pleased my hero be in love. 
But let him not hke a tame shepherd move ; 
Let not Achilles be like Thyrsis seen. 
Or for a Cyrus show an Artaraene ; 
That, struggling oft, his passions we may find 
The frailty, not the virtue of his mind. 

Of romance heroes shun the low design, 
Yet to great hearts some human frailties join. 
Achilles must with Homer's heart engage — 
For an affront I'm pleased to see him rage ; 

Fit voir de ce projet la devote imprudence. 
On chassa ces docteurs pr8chant sans mission; 
On vit tenattre Hector, Andromaque, Ilion; 
Seulement, les acteurs laissant le masque antique, 
I^ violon tint lieu de chc^r et de musique. 

BienlSi ['amour, fertile en tendres senlimena, 
S'empara du theitre ainsi que des romans; 
De cette passion la sensible peinture 
Est pour aller au cceur la route la plus s&re. 
Peignez done, j'y consens, les heros amoureux, 
Mais ne lii'en formei pas des bergers doucereuj:; 
Qu'Achille aime autrement que Thyrsis et Philtne; 
N'allez pas d'un Cyrus nous faire un Artamene; 
El que I'ainour, aouvenl de remords combattu. 
Parolsse une foiblesse et non une vertu. 

Des hSros de roman fuyez les petitesses; 
Toutefois aux grands coeurs ilonnez quelques foililesses. 
Achille dfplaiioit, moins bouiltant et moins p ompt, 
J'aime i lui voir verser des pleura pour un alTrunt; 

D,o, by Google 

m] CANTO in. 

Those little failings in your hero's heart 
Show that of man and nature he has part. 
To leave known rules y9u cannot be allowed ; 
Make Agamemnon covetous and proud, 
j^neas in religious rites austere ; 
Keep to each man his proper character. 
Of countries and of times the humors know, 
From different climates different customs grow ; 
And strwe to shun their fault/who vainly dress 
An antique hero like a modem ass, 
Who make old Romans like our English move. 
Show Cato sparkish, or make Brutus love. 
In a romance those errors are excused ; 
There 'tis enough that, reading, we're amused, 
Rules too severe would there be useless found ; 
But the strict scene must have a juster bound, 
Exact decorum we must always fi nd. 

If then you form some hero in your mind, 

A ces petits difiuls marques dans sa peinture, 
L'espril avec plaisic reconnoK la nature. 
Qu'il soil 5ur ce module en vos Perils trace; 
Qu' Agamemnon soit lier, superbe, intfresse; 
Que pour ses dieux Enee ait un respect austere; 
Conserve! h chacun son propre caractJre. 
Des Slides, de pays, etudiez les mceura, 
Les climals font souvent les diverses humeurs. 
Gardez done de donner, ainsi que dans Qelie, 
L'air, ni 1'esprit fian^ois i I'antique Italic; 
Et. sous des noms lomains faisant noire portrait, 
Peindre Caton galant et Briitiig dameret. 
Dans un roman frivole aisfment tout s'excuse; 
C'est assez qu'en courant la tiction amuse, 
Trop de rigueut alors seroit hors de saison; 
Mais la scSne demande une exacte raison, 
L'elroite bienseance y veut Stre gardie. 
D'un nouveau personnage inventez-vous I'idee? 

D,o, by Google 


Be sure your image with itself agree, y 
For what he first appears he still must be'A 

Affected wits will naturally incline 
To paint their figures by their own design ; 
Your bully poets buliy heroes write ; 
Chapman in Bussy D'Arabois took delight. 
And thought perfection was to huff and fight. 

Wise nature by variety does please ; 
Clothe differing passions in a differing dress : 
Bold anger in rough haughty words appears ; 
Sorrow is humble and dissolves in tears. 

.Make not your Hecuba with fury rage, 
And show a randng grief upon the stage, 
Or tell in vain how ' the rough Tanais bore 
His sevenfold waters to the Euxine shore.' 
These swollen expressions, this affected noise, 
.Shows hke some pedant that declaims to boys. 
In sorrow you must softer methods keep, 

Qu'en tout avec soi-mSme il se monire d'accord, 
Et qu'il soit jusqu'au bout (el qu'on I'a vu d'abord. 

Souvent, aans y penscr, un ^crivain qui s'aime 
Forme tous ses heros semblables i, soi-mSme : 
Tout a rhumeur gasconne en un auteur gascon; 
Calprenede et Juba parlent du mSme ton. 

La nature est en noU3 plus diverse e( plus sage; 
Chaque passion parle un diFT^rent langage ; 
La colore est superbe et veul des mots altiers; 
L'abattement a'cxplique en des termes moins fiers. 

Que devant Tiuie en flamme Hfcube d£so16e 
Ne vienne pas pousser une plainte ampoulee, 
Ni sans raison decrire en quel affreux pays, 
'Par sept bouches I'Eunin re9oit le Tanais.' 
Tous ces pompeux amaa d'expresstuns frivdles 
Sont d'un declamateut amoureux des paroles, 
II faut datis la douleur que vous vous abaissiezi 
Pour me tirer des pleurs, il faut cjue vous pleuriei. 

Do,T«jhy Google 

And, to excite our teare, yourself must weep. 
Those noisy words with which ill plays abound 
Come not from hearts that are in sadness drowned. 

The theatre for a young poet's rimes 
Is a bold venture in our knowing times. 
An author cannot easily purchase fame ; 
1 Critics are always apt to hiss and blame ; 
iVou may be judged by every ass in town — 
ll'he privilege is bought for half-a-crown. 
iTo please, you must a hundred changes try, 
Bometimes be humble, then must soar on high, 
iln noble thoughts must everywhere abound. 
Be easy, pleasant, solid, and profound ; 
To these you must surprising touches join. 
And show us a new wonder in each line ; 
That all, in a just method well-designed 
May leave a strong impression in the mind. 
These are the arts that tragedy maintain. 

But the Heroic claims a loftier strain : 

Cea grands mots dont alors I'acleur emplit sa bouche 
Ne partenC point d'un c(eur que sa mis^rc louche. 

Le theatre, fertile en censeurs pointilkux, 
Chei nous pour se produire est un champ petilleux. 
Un auteur n'y fait pas de faciles conquSles; 
II trouve k le aiffler des bouches toujours pr§tes; 
Chacun le pent trailer de fat et d'ignorant — 
C'est un droit c]u'& la porle on achfite en entrant. 
I! faut qu'en cent faijons, pour plaire, il se replie. 
Que tant6t il a'fl^ve et tantSt s'humilie, 
Qu'en nobles sentimens il soit partout f£cond, 
Qu'il soit flis6, solide, agieable, profond; 
Que de traits surprenans sans cease il nous reveille, 
Qu'il coure dans ses vers de merveille en merveillei 
Et que tout ce qu'il dit, facile i retenir, 
De son ouvrage en nous laisse un long souvenir. 
Ainsi la tragfdie agit, q;iarche, et s'expliqoe. 



In the narration of some great design ,' 

Invention, art, and fable all must join ; ' 

Here fiction must employ its utmost grace ; 

All must assume a body, mind, and face. 

Each virtue a divinity is seen : 

Prudence is Pallas, Beauty Paphos" queen ; 

'Tis not a cloud from whence swift lightnings fly, 

But Jupiter that thunders from the sky ; 

Nor a rough storm that gives the sailor pain, 

But angry Neptune plowing up the main ; 

Echo's no more an empty airy sound. 

But a (air nymph that weeps her lover drowned. 

Thus in the endless treasure of his mind 

The poet does a thousand figures find. 

Around the work his ornaments he pours, 

And strews with lavish hand his opening flowers. 

Tis not a wonder if a tempest bore 

The Trojan fleet against the Libyan shore ; 

D'un a.iT plus grand encor la po£sie epique, 
Dans )e vaste rfcit d'une longue action, 
Se soutient pat !a fable, et vit de licdon. 
Lk pour nous enchanter tout est mis en usage; 
Tout prend un corps, une Sme, un esprit, un visage. 
Chaque vertu devient une divinity : 
Minerve est la prudence, et Venus la beaute; 
Ce n'est plus la vapeut qui produit le tonnecce, 
C'est Jupiter arm^ pour effrayer la terre; 
Un oiage terrible aux yeui des matelots, 
C'est Neptune en eourroux qui goutmande les floU; 
Eclio n'est plus un son qui dans I'air retentisse. 
Ceal une nymphe en pleurs (|ui se plaint de Narcisse. 
Ainsi, dans cet amas de nobles fictions, 
Le pogte 9'^gayc en mille inventions, 
Orne, elSve, embellit, agiandit toutea ehoses, 
Et trouve sous sa main des lleurs toujours ecloses. 
Qu'Enee et ses vaisaeaui, par le vent ecartes. 

hy Google 

From faithless fortune this is no surprise. 

For every day 'tis common to our eyes. 

But angry Juno, that she might destroy 

And overwhelm the rest of ruined Troy ; 

That jt^olus, with the fierce goddess joined, 

Opened the hollow prisons of the wind ; 

Till angry Neptune, looking o'er the main, 

Rebukes the tempest, calms the waves again, 

Their vessels from the dangerous quicksands steers, — 

These are the springs that move our hopes and fears. 

Without these ornaments before our eyes 

The unsinewed poem languishes and dies, 

Vour poet in his art will always fail, 

And tell you but a dull insipid tale. 

In vain have our mistaken authors tried 
To lay these ancient ornaments aside, 
Thinking our God, and prophets that he sent, 
Might act Uke those the poets did invent, 

Soienl aux bords africains d'un orage emportte; 
Ce n'est (ju'une avenlure ordinaire ct commune, 
Qu'un coup peu aurprenant des traits de la fortune. 
Maia que Junon, constante en son aversion, 
Poutsuive sur les Aots les restes d'llion; 
Qu'Eole, en sa faveur, les chasaant d'ltalie, 
Ouvre aux vents mutines les prisons d'Eolie; 
Que Neptune en courroui, s'e levant sur la mer, 
l>'un mot calme les llots. metle la puis dans I'air, 

ax, dcs syrtes les arrache; 

prend, frappe, saisll, attache. 

La po^sie est morte, ou rampe sans vigueur; 
Le pogle n'est plus qu'un otateur timide, 
Qu'un froid historien d'une fable insipide. 

C'est done bien vatnement que tios auteurs di^ut, 
Bannissant de leurs vers ces orncmens re^us, 
Fensent faire agjr DJeu, ses saints et ses prophites, 

D,o, by Google 


To fright poor readers in each line with hell. 
And talk of Satan, Ashtaroth, and Bel. 

The mysteries which Christians must believe 
Disdain such shifting pageants to receive ; 
The Gospel offers nothing to our thoughts 
But penitence, or punishment for faults; 
And mingling falsehoods with those mysteries, 
Would make our sacred truths appear like lies. 
Besides, what pleasure can it be to hear " 
The howhngs of repining Lucifer, 
Whose rage at your imagined .hero flies, 
And oft with God himself disputes the prize ? 

Tasso, you'll say, has done it with applause ; 
It is not here I mean to judge his cause, 
Yet though our age has so extolled his name. 
His works had never gained immortal fame. 
If holy Godfrey in his ecstasies 
Had only conquered Satan on his knees, 

Comme ces dieux eclos du cerveau des poetes; 
Metlent h chaque pas ie lecteur en enfer; 
N'offtenl rien qu'Astarolh, Beliebuth, Lucifer. 
De la foi d'un chrelien les myst^res terribUs 
D'ornemena igay^ ne sont poini susceptibUs; 
L'Evangile k I'esprit n'olfre de luus c8t69 
Que penitence h faire et tourmens mfrites; 
Et de vos fictions le melange coupable 
MSme k sea v6ritfe donne Tair dc la fable. 
Et quel objet enlin k presenter aui yeux 
Que le diable toujours hurlant contre les cieux. 
Qui de voire hfros veul rabaisser la gloire, 
Et souvent avec Dieu balance la i;toirc! 
Le Tasse, dira-t-on, I'a fait avec succ^. 
Je ne veui point ici lui faire son procJa, 
Mais, quoi que notie siecle i sa gk)ire public, 
II n'eOt point de son livre iUuslte Tltalie, 
Si son sage heros, toujours en orais<>n, 

D,o, by Google 

331] CANTO III. 

If Tancred and Armida's pleasing form 
Did not his melancholy theme adom. 

Tis not that Christian poems ought to be 
Filled with the fictions of idolatry ; 
But in a common subject, to reject 
The gods, and heathen ornaments neglect. 
To banish Tritons who the seas invade, 
To lake Pan's whistle, or the Fates degrade, 
To hinder Charon in his leaky boat 
To pass the shepherd with the man of note, 
Is with vain scruples to disturb your mind, 
And search perfection you can never find. 
As well they may forbid us to present 
Prudence or Justice for an ornament. 
To paint old Janus with his front of brass, 
And take from Time his scj'the, his wings, and glass, 
And everywhere, as 'twere idolatry, 
Banish descriptions from our poetry. 

N'efit fait que mettre enlin Satan i la raison, 
Et 31 Renaud, Argant, TancrJde et sa mattresse 
N'eussent de son sujet egay£ la tristesse, 

Ce n'est pas que j'approuve, en un sujet Chretien,. 
Un auleiu foUement idolStre et paien; 
Mais, dans une profane et riante peinlure, 
De n'osei <le la fable employer la figure, 
De chasser les Tritons de I'empire des eain, 
D'SCer i Pan sa Bite, aux Parques leurs ciscaux, 
D'empSeher que Caton, dans la fatale barque, 
Ainsi que le bcrger ne passe le monarque, 
C'est d'uti acnipule vain s'alarmer sottement, 
^t vouloir aux lecteurs plaire sans agrement. 
BientSt ils defendront de peindre la Prudence, 
De donner i» Themis ni bandeau ni Jialance, 
lie figurer am yeax la Guerre au front d'airain, 
Ou le Temps qui s'enfuit une horloge k la main; 
Et partout des discours, com me une idolSlrie, 



Leave them their pious follies to pursue. 
But let our reason such vain fears subdue. 
And let us not, amongst our vanities, 
Of the true God create a god of lies. \ 

In fable we a thousand pleasures see. 
And the smooth names seem made for poetry, — 
As Hector, Alexander, Helen, Phyllis, 
Ulysses, Agamemnon, and Achilles ; 
In such a crowd, the poet were to blame 
To choose King Chilperic for his hero's name. 
Sometimes the name, being well or ill applied, 
I Will the whole fortune of your work decide. 
Would you your reader never should be tired, 
Choose some great hero, fit to be admired, 
In courage signal, and in virtue bright; 
Let even his very failings give delight ; 
Let his great actions our attention bind, 
Like Caesar or like Scipio frame his mind, 

Dans leur faui i^le ironl chasser I'all^gorie. 
Laissons-les s'applaudic de leuc pieuse erreui; 
Mais, pour nous, bannissoos une vaine Icrteur, 
Et, fabuleux Chretiens, n'allons point dans nos songes 
Du Dieu de v^rite fatre un dieu de mensonges. 

U' fable oflce i Vesprit mille agremens divers; 
Li. tous les noms heureux semblent aii pour les vers, 
Ulysse, Agamemnon, OiesCe, tdomfnee, 
H«1^ne, Mfnelas, Pirts, Hector, Enee. 
O le plaisant projel d'un poete ignorant. 
Qui de tant de b£ros va choiair Childebrand ! 
D'un seul nom quelquefois le son dur ou bizure 
Rend un poeme entier ou burlestjue ou barbate. 

Voule2-vous longtemps plaiie, et jamais ne losser? 
Faites choix d'un heros propte i m'int^tesser, 
En valeur eclatanl, en verlua magnifique; 
Qu'en lui, jusiju'sux defauts. tout se montre herolque; 
Que ses (aits surprenans soient dignes d'etre ouls; 

D,o, by Google 

■287] CANTO III. 

And not like CEdipus his perjured race j 
A common conqueror is a theme too base. 
Choose not your tale of accidents too full. 
Too much variety may make it dull. 
Achilles' rage alone, when wrought with skill, 
Abundantly does a whole Iliad fill. 

Be your narrations lively, short, and smart ; 
In your descriptions show your noblest art. 
There 'tis your poetry may be employed. 
Yet you must trivial accidents avoid. 
Nor imitate that fool, who, to describe 
The wondrous marches of the chosen tribe. 
Placed on the sides, to see their armies pass, 
The fishes staring through the liquid glass ; 
Described a child, who, ' with his little hand, 
Picked up the shining pebbles from the sand.' 
Such objects are too mean to stay our sight ; 
Allow your work a just and nobler flight. 

Qu'il soit tel que C6sar, Alexandre, ou Louis, 
Noti tel que Polyniee et son perfide frSre. 
On s'ennuie aox exploits d'un conqufiant vulgaire. 
N'offrez point un sujet d'incidens trop charge: 
Le seul courroui d'Achille, avec art m^nag^, 
Remplit abondamment une liiade eatiitre; 
Souvent trop d'abondance appauvrit la matiire. 

Soyez vif et presse dans vos naiialions; 
Soyez riche et pompeux dans vos desciiptions, 
C'est li qu'il faul des vers etaler Tel^gance; 
N'y ptesentez jamais de basse circonstance. 
N'imitez pas ce fou qui, d^ctivant les mers, 
Et peignanl, au milieu de leurs flota entr'ouveits, 
L'H^breu sauve du joug de ses injustes matties, 
Met, pour les voir passer, les poissons aux fenStres^ 
Peint le petit enfant qui ' va, saule, revient, 
Et joyeux a sa m6re offire nn caillou qu'il tienl.' 
Sui de trop vaina objets c'est artSter )a vue. 

D,o, by Google 


Be your beginning plain ; and take good heed 
Too soon you mount not on the airy steed. 
Nor tell your reader, in a thundering verse, 
' I sing the conqueror of the universe.* 
What can an author after this produce? 
The laboring mountain must bring fortii a mouse. 
Much better are we pleased with his address, 
Who without making such vast promises. 
Says in an easier style and plainer sense, 
' I sing the combats of thkt pious prince, 
Who from the Phrygian coast his armies bore. 
And landed first on the Lavinian shore.' 
His opening muse sets not the world on fire. 
And yet performs more than we can require. 
Quickly you'll hear him celebrate the fame 
And future glory of the Roman name, 
Of Styx and Acheron describe the floods. 
And Caesars wandering in the Elysian woods. 

Donnez & voire ouviage une juste eten<tue. 

Que le (t^hut suit ^mple et o'lit lien d'afTect^. 
N'allez pas dhs I'abotd, sur Vegise monle, 
Crier i vos lecteurs li'une voix de lonnerre, 
'Je chante le vainqueur dea vainqueuis de la terre.' 
Que ptoduira I'auleur apr^s lous ces grands cris? 
La Tnontagne en tiavail enfante une Gouris, 
Oh I que j'aime bien mieux cet auteur plein d'adtesse 
Qui, sans faire d'aboid de si haute promesse, 
Me dit d'un ton aise, doux, simple, haiinonieux, 
' Je chante les combats, et cet homme pieni 
Qui, des bords phiygiens conduit dans I'Ausonie, 
Le premier ahoida les champs de Lavinie.' 
Sa muse en arrivant ne mel pas tout en feu, 
Et pour donner heaueoup, ne nous promet que pen. 
BientSt vous la vertez, prodignant les miracles, 
Uu destin des Latins prononcer les oracles, 
De Stjm et d' Acheron peindre les noirs torrens. 



With figures numberless your story grace. 
And everything in beauteous colors trace ; 
At once you may be pleasing and sublime. ^-^ 

I hate a heavy melancholy rime ; 
I'd rather read Orlando's comic tale 
Than a dull author always stilT and stale, 
Who thinks himself dishonored in his style 
If on his works the Graces do but smile. 

'Tis said that HomeiVmatchless in his art. 
Stole Venus' girdle to engagfc the heart ; 
His works indeed vast treasures do unfold. 
And whatsoe'er he touches turns to gold ; 
All in his hands new beauty does acquire ; 
He always pleases, and can never tire, 
A happy warmth he everywhere may boast. 
Nor is he in too long digressions lost ; 
His verses without rule a method find, 
And of themselves appear in order joined ; 

Et dej& lea Cfsara dans I'Elys^e errans. 

De figures sans nombie egayez votre ouviage; 
Que tout y fasse aux yeux une rianle image; 
On peut 6tre i !a fois et pompeux et plaisant, 
Et je hais un sublime ennuyeux et pesant. 
J'aime mieui Arioste et ses fables comiques 
Que ces auteuis toujours froids et m^lancaliques, 
Qui dans leur sombre humeur se ciotroienl faire affcont 
Si lea GrSces jamais leur deridoient le front. 

On diroit que pour- plaire, instruit par la nature, 
HomJre ait k Venus detob6 sa ceinture. 
Son livre est d'agremens un fertile tresor, 
Tout ce qu'il a touchg se convertit en or; 
Tout revolt dans ses mains une nouvelle grSce; 
Partout il ducrtit et jamais il ne lasse. 
Une heuT^se chaleur anime sea discours; 

II ne ^^t^are point en de trop longs detours; 
S.di»-^arder dans ses vers un ordre methodique. 

D,o, by Google 


All without trouble answers his intent, 

Each syllable is tending to the event. 
Let his example your endeavors raise ; 
To love his writings is a kind of praise. 
A poem where we all perfections find 
Is not the work of a fantastic mind ; 
There must be care, and time, and skill, and pains. 
Not the first heat of inexperienced brains. 
Yet sometimes artless poets, when the rage 
Of a warm fancy does their minds engage. 
Puffed with vain pride, presume they understand. 
And boldly take the trumpet in their hand ; 
Their fustian muse each accident confounds. 
Nor can she fly, but rise by leaps and bounds ; 
Till, their small stock of learning quickly spent. 
Their poem dies for want of nourishment. 
In vain mankind the hot-brained fool decries, 

Son sujel de soi-mSme et s'sirange et s'expliqne; 
Tout, sans faire d'appiSts, s'y prepare aisement; 
Chaque vers, chaqne mot court i revenement. 
Aimez done ses Merits, mais d'un amouc sincire; 
C'esI avoir prolite que de savoir s'y plaire. 

Un poEme excellent, ou lout marche et se suit, 
N'est pas de ces tra.vaux qu'un caprice produit; 
II veut du temps, des soins; el ce penible ouvrage 
Jamais d'un ecolier ne fut I'apprentissage, 
Maia souveni patmi nous un poSte sans art, 
Qu'un beau feu quelquefois echaufFa par hasard, 
Enflant d'un vain orgueil son esprit chimeiique, 
Fierement piend en main la tiompette tieroique; 
Sa muse, dereglee en ses vers vagabonds, 
Ne s'el^ve jamais que par sauts et par bonds; 
Et 9on feu, depoucvu de sens et de lecture, 
S'fteint i. chaque pas, faule de nourriture. 
Mais en vain le public, prompt i le mepriser, 
De son mfrjte faux le veut desabuser> 

D,o, by Google 

■«o] Canto hi. 

No branding censures can unveil his eyes ; 
Witli impudence the laurel they invade. 
Resolved to like the monsters they have made. 
Virgil, compared to them, is flat and dry, 
And Homer understood not poetry. 
Against their merit if this age rebel. 
To fiiture times for justice they appeal. 
But, waiting till mankind shall do them right, 
And bring their works triumphantly to light. 
Neglected heaps we in bye-corners lay, 
Where they become to worms and moths a prey ; 
Forgot, in dust and cobwebs let them rest. 
Whilst we return from whence we first digressed. 
^ The great success which tragic writers found 
In Athens first the comedy renowned. 
The abusive Grecian there, by pleasing ways. 
Dispersed his natural malice in his plays ; 
Wisdom and virtue, honor, wit, and sense, 

Lui-mSme, applaudtssant k son maigre genie, 
Se donne pat aes mains Teocens qu'on lui denie. 
Viigile, au pcix de lui, n'a point d'invenlian; 
Homire n'entend point la noble fiction. 
Si contre cet arrSt 1e aidcle se rebelle, 
A la posterity d'abotd il en appelie. 
Mais attendant qu'ici le bon sens de retoui 
Ram^ne triomphans ses ouvrages au jour, 
Leur tas au magasin, caches \ la lumiere, 
Combattent tristement les vers et la poussiSte. 
Laissons-Ies done entre eux s'escrimer en repos, 
Et, sans nous egarer, suivons notre piopos. 
Des succte fortunes du spectacle tragique 
Dans AthSnes naquit la comedie antique. 
L^ le dec, ne moqueur, par mille jeui plaisans, 
Distilla le venin de ses traits metlisans. 
Aux ace6s insolens d'une bouffonne joie 
La sagesse, I'esprit, Thonneur, futent en proie. 

D,o, by Google 


Were subject to buffooning insolence ; 
Poets were publicly approved and sought, 
That vice extolled and virtue set at naught ; 
A Socrates himself, in that loose age, 
Was made the pastime of a scoffing stage. 
At last the public took in hand the cause, 
And cured this madness by the power of laws, 
Forbade, at any time or any place. 
To name the persons or describe the face. 
The stage its ancient fury thus let fall, 
And comedy diverted without gall, 
By mild reproofs recovered minds diseased. 
And, sparing persons, innocently pleased. 
Each one was nicely shown in this new glass. 
And smiled to think he was not meant the ass. 
A miser oft would laugh at first, to find 
A faithful draught of his own sordid mind ; 
And fops were with such care and cunning writ, 

On vit par le pubbc un poSte avoue 

S'enrichir aux depens <lu merite joue; 

Et Sociate par lui, dans un chieur de nuees, 

D'un vil amas de peuple attirer les huees. 

Enfin de la licence on arrSia le cours; 

Le magistral des lois emprunta le secouis, 

Et, rendant par idit lea poftea plus sages, 

Defendit de marquei les noms et les visages. 

Le (h^Slre perdit son antique futeur; 

La comedie apprit h rire sans aigieur. 

Sans fiel et sans verin aut inatruire et reprendre, 

Et plut Innocemment dans les vers de Menandre. 

Chacun, peint avec art dans ce nouveau miroir, 

L'avare, des premiers, rit du tableau lidUe 
D'un avare souvent trace sc son module; 
Et mille fois un fat, finenient exprime, 
Meconnul le portrait sur lui-in£me foim^. 

D,o, by Google 

They liked the piece for which themselves did sit. 

You, then, that would the comic lautels wear. 
To study nature be your only care. ^^ 
Whoe'er knows man, and by a curious art 
Discerns the hidden secrets of the heart ; 
He who observes, and naturally can paint 
The jealous fool, the fawning sycophant, 
A sober wit, an enterprising ass, 
A humorous Otter, or a Hudibras, — 
May safely in those noble lists engage, 
And make them act and speak upon the stage. 
Strive to be natural in all you write, ^^ 
And paint with colors that may please the sight. ■■' 
Nature in various figures does abound, ^ 
And in each mind are different humors found ; 
A glance, a touch, discovers to the wise. 
But every man has not discerning eyes. 

All-changing time does also change the mind, 
And different ages different pleasures find. 

Que la nature done soil votre £tude unique, 
Auteun qui pretendez aux honneurs du comique. 
Quiconque voit bien rhomme, et d'un esprit profond, 
De tant de cceuis caches a penftre le fond; 
Qui sait bien ce que c'est qu'un prodigue, un avare, 
Un honnSle homme, un fat, un jaloux, un biiarre, 
Sur une scene heureuse il peut les staler, 
Et les faire ^ nos ycux vivre, agic, et pailer. 
Presenlez-en partout les images naivea; 
Que chacun y soit peint des couleure les plus vives. 
La nature, feconde en bizarres portraits, 
Dans chaque ame est marquee \ de difleiens traits; 
Un gesle la decouvre, un lien la fait parottre: 
Mais tout esprit n'a pas des ye'^ pour la connoftre. 

Le temps, qui change tout, change aussi nos humeurs; 
Chaque 3ge a ses plaisirs, son esprit et ses mceurs. 

D,o, by Google 


Youth, hot and furious, cannot brook delay. 

By flattering vice is easily led away ; 

Vain in discourse, inconstant in desire. 

In censure rash, in pleasures all on fire. 

The manly age does steadier thoughts enjoy ; 

Power and ambition do his soul employ ; 

Against the turns of fate he sets his mind. 

And by the past the future hopes to find. 

Decrepit age, still adding to his stores, 

For others heaps the treasure he adores, 

In all his actions keeps a frozen pace, 

Past times extols, the present to debase ; 

Incapable of pleasures youth abuse. 

In others blames what age does him refuse. 

Your actors must by reason be controlled ; 

Let young men speak like young, old men like old. 

Observe the town and study well the court, 
For thither various characters resort. 

Un jcune homme, toujours bouillant dans ses caprices. 

Est prompt k recevoii 1 'impression dea vices; 

Est vain dans ses discours, volage en ses desirs, 

Rglif k la censure, et fou dans les plaisirs. 

L'ige viril, plus mfir, inspire un air plus sage, 

Se pousse aupr^s des grands, s'intrigue, se menage,. 

Contre les coups du sort songe i. se maintenir, 

Et loin dans le present regarde I'avenir. 

La vieillesse chagcine incessamment aniasse; 

Garde, non pas pour soi, les tresors qu'ellc entasst; 

Marche en tons ses desseins d'un pas lent el glace; 

Toujours plaint le present el vante le passf; 

Inhabile aux plaisirs dont la jeunesse abuse, 

BlSme en eux les douceurs que I'Sge lui refuse. 

Ne r^tes point parler vos acteurs au hasard, , 

Un vieillard en jeune homme, un jeune bomme en vieillard 

Etudiez la cour et connoissez la ville; 
L'une et I'autre est toujours en modules fertile. 

D,o, by Google 

Thus 'twas great Jonson purchased his renown, 
And in his art had bome away the crown, 
If, less desirous of the people's praise. 
He had not with low farce debased his plays, 
Mixing dull buffoonry with wit refined, 
And Harlequin with noble Terence joined. 
When in the Fox I see the tortoise hissed, 

I lose the author of the Alchemist. 

The comic wit, bom with a smiling air. 
Must tragic grief and pompous verse forbear ; 
Yet may he not, as on a market-place. 
With bawdy jests amuse the populace. 
With well-bred conversation you must please. 
And your intrigue unravelled be with ease ; 
Your action still should reason's rules obey, 
Nor in an empty scene may lose its way. 
Your humble style must sometimes gently rise. 
And your discourse sententious be and wise, 

Cest pu \i. que Moli^re, illustrant ses ecrits, 

Peul-Stre de son art eflt remporte le prix, 

Si, moins ami du peuple, en sea doctea peintures 

II n'eQt point fait souvent grima.cer ses figures, 
Quitte, pour le bouffon, I'agreable et le tin, 

Et Sana honle i Terence allie Tabarin. 
Dans ce sac ridicule ou Scaptn s'enveloppe, 
Je nc reconnoia plus I'auteut du Misanthrope. 

Le comique, ennemi des soupirs et des pleura, 
N'admet point en ses vers de tragiques douleura; 
Maia son emptoi n'est paa d'aller, dans une place, 
De mots sales et bas charmer la populace. 
II faut que ses acleurs badinent noblement; 
Que son na?iid bien fonn£ se dinoue aisement; 
Que I'action, marchant od U raison la guide, 
Ne ae peide jamais dans une sc^ne vide; 
Que son style humble et doux se releve i propos; 
Que ses discours, parloat fettilea en bons mots. 

D,o, by Google 

boileau's art of poetry. r«; 

The pasrions must to nature be confined, 
And scenes to scenes with artAtl weaving joined. 
Vour wit must not umeasotiably play, 
But Tollow business, never lead the way. 
Observe how Terence does this evil shun : 
A careful father chides his amorous son ; 
Then sec that son whom no advice can move, 
Forget those orders, and pursue his love ! 
'Tis not a well-drawn picture we discover, 
'Tis a true son, a father, and a lover. 

1 like an author that reforms the age, 
And keeps the right decorum of the stage. 
That always pleases by just reason's rule ; 
But for a tedious droll, a quibbling fool. 
Who with low nauseous bawdry tills his plays, 
Let him be gone, and on two trestles raise 
Some Smithfield stage, where he may act his pranks, 
And make Jack-Puddings speak to mountebanks. 

Soient pUins de pusions finement msnifes, 
Et les ic^tiM toujoun I'une k I'autre liees. 
Aux d^pcnt (tu bon sens gatdei tie plaisanter; 
JamaJa ile la nature il ne faut s'^carter. 
Contemplet de <|uel air un p^re dans T^nce 
Vienl d'un Kls amoureux guurmuider I'iinprudence; 
De quel air cet amani ecoute ses Ic^ns, 
ICt court chei sa iiialtrcsse oublict ccs chansons 
Ce n'ett pas un portrait, une inuige semblibl«; 
Cett un amant, un lils, an p^re v&itaUe. 
J'aime sur l« thi&tre un agrcable auteur 
Qui, tani M diflamer aui y«ux du ^wctateor, 
Hatt par la railon seule, et jamais nc U cboque; 
Mais pour an fiiux plaUant, i (trossiere fquiviiqae. 
Qui, pour me divertir, n'a que la silL-te. 
Qu'il «'cn ailk, i'i\ vcat, va deux treteaox monte, 
Amusant 1e Pont N'caf de ses somettes fades. 
Auk Uquais asseinl))^ joB« 




IN Florence dwelt a doctor of renown. 
The scoui^e of God, and terror of the town, 
Who all the cant of physic had by heart, 
And never murdered but by rules of art. 
The public mischief was his private gain ; 
Children their slaughtered parents sought in vain ; 
A brother here his poisoned brother wept ; 
Some bloodless died, and some by opium slept ; 
Colds, at his presence, would to frenzies turn, 
And agues like malignant fevers bum. 
Hated, at last, his practice gives him o'er ; 
One friend, unkilled by drugs, of all his store, 
In his new country-house affords him place — 
(Twas a rich abbot, and a building ass). 
Here first the doctor's talent came in play ; 
He seems inspired and talks like Wren or May ; 

DANS Florence jadis vivoit un medecin, 
Savant hftbUur, dit-on, et celebie assassin. 
Liu seul y fit longtempa la publique mis&te; 
LA le fib orphelin lui redemande un pire. 
Id le ftire pleure un (ritt empoiaonne; 
L'nn meurl vide de sang, I'autte plein de aene; 
Le Thume k son aspect se change en pleureaie, 
Et par lui la migraine est bientSt frenesie. 
II quitte enfin la ville, en tons lieux detest^. 
De tons ses amis morts un seul ami reste 
Le mSne en la maison de superbe structure; 
C'itoit un riche abbe, fou de I'architecturc. 
Le medecin d'aboid semble ne dans cet art. 

D,o, by Google 


Of this new portico condemns the face, 
And turns the entrance to a better place. 
Designs the stair-case at the other end. 
His friend approves, does for his mason send ; 
He comes ; the doctor's arguments prevail j 
In short, to finish this our humorous tale, 
He Galen's dangerous science does reject, 
And from ill doctor turns good architect. 
In this example we may have our part ; 
Rather be mason ('tis a useful art) 
V-Than a dull poet ; for that trade accursed 
Admits no mean betwixt the best and worst. 
In other sciences, without disgrace, 
A candidate may fill a second place, 
But poetry no medium can admit. 
No reader suffers an indifferent wit ; 

Dejii de bStimens parle comme Mansardi 
D'un salon qu'on eltive il condunne la face; 
Au vestibule obscui il marijue une autre place; 
AppTOUve I'cscalier tournJ d'autte fa;on. 
Son ami le con^oit, el mande son mafon. 
Le ma9on vient, ecoute, approuve, et se corrige. 
EnliD, pour abreger un si plaisant prodige, 

Et desormais, la regie et Tequerre h la niaia, 

Laissant de Galien la science susptxte, 

Ue mfchant m^ecia devient boa aichitecte. 

^n exemple est pour nous on piecepte excellent 
Snyet plutui mt^n, si c'est votre talent, 
Ouvdci oslime dans un art necessaire, 
Qu'ccrivain du cummun et poSte vulgaire. 
II est dans tuut autre art iles degris ditleiens, 
<.>ii peut avec honneur remplii ks seconds rangs; 
Mail dans I'art dangereux de rimer et d'eciire, 
II n'est point de dcgrfs du mevliMie au pira; 
t^ dit buid ecrivain dil detestable auleur. 

D,o, by Google 

The ruined stationers against him bawl, 
And Herringnnan degrades him from his stall. 
Burlesque at least our laughter may excite. 
But a cold writer never can delight. 
The Counter-scuffle has more wit and art 
Than the stiff formal style of Gondibert. 

Be not affected with that empty praise 
Which your vain flatterers will sometimes raise, 
And, when you read, with ecstasy will say, 
'The finished piece ! the admirable play ! ' — 
Which, when exposed to censure and to light, 
Camiot endure a critic's piercing sight. 
A hundred authors' fates have been foretold. 
And Shadwell's works are printed, but not sold. 

Hear all the world ; consider every thought ; 
A fool by chance may stumble on a fault. 
Yet, when Apollo does your muse inspire, 
Be not impatient to expose your fire ; 

Buyer est k linchSne £gal pour le lecteui; 
On ne lit gu^te plus Rampale et Mcsnardiire 
Que Magnon, Du Souhsit, Corbin et La Marliere, 
Vn ibu liu moins rite, et peut nous egayer, 
Mais un froid ecrivaiu ne sail rien qu'ennuyer. 
J'aime mieuii Bereerac et sa burlesque audaee 
Que ces vers aa Motin se morfond et nous glace. 

Ne vous enivrei point dcs eloges flatteurs 
Qu'un amas quelquefois de vains admirateurs 
Vous donne en ces reduits, prompts i. criei, MerveiUe! 
Tel eciiC recite se soutint & I'oieille, 
Qui, dans I'impression an grand jour se montrant, 
Ne soutient pas des yeux le regard penetrant. 
On sait de cent aateurs I'aventuie tiagique : 
Et Gombaut tant louc garde encor la boutique. 

Ecoutez tout le monde, assidu consultanti 
Un fat quelquefois ouvre un avis important. 
Quelques vers toutefois qu'Apollon vous inspire. 

D,o, by Google 


Nor imitate the Settles of our times. 

Those tuneful readers of their own dull rimes, 

Who seize on all the acquaintance they can meet, 

And stop the passengers that walk the street ; 

There is no sanctuary you can choose 

For a defense from their pursuing muse. 

I've said before, be patient when they blame ; 
To alter for the better is no shame. 
Yet yield not to a fool's impertinence : 
Sometimes conceited sceptics, void of sense. 
By their false taste condemn some finished part, 
And blame the noblest flights of wit and art. 
In vain their fond opinions you deride. 
With their loved follies they are satisfied. 
And their weak judgment, void of sense and light. 
Thinks nothing can escape their feeble sight. 
Their dangerous counsels do not cure, but wound ; 
To shun the storm they run your verse aground, 

En tous lieiu aussitSt ne courez pas les lire. 

Gardei-VQus d'imitet ee rimeut furieux. 

Qui, de ses vama Perils lecteur harmonicui, 

Aborde en tecitant quiconque le silue, 

Et poursuit de ses vers les passans dans la rue. 

II n'esl temple s aaini, des anges resptctc, 

Je voua I'ai deji dit, aimez qu'on vous censure, 
Et, souple i la [aiaon, corrigez aana murmuie. 
Mais ne vous rendez pas des qu'un sot vous reprend. 
Souvent dans son oi^eil un subtil ignorant 
Par (i'injualea degoflts combat toute une piece, 
BlSme des plus beaux vers la nolile hardicsse. 
On a lieau refuter ses vains raisonnemens, 
Son esprit se complalt dans ses faux jugemcns; 
Et sa foible raison, de clart^ depoarvue, 
Pense que rien n'echappe i sa d^bile vae. 
Ses conseils lont i craindre; et, si vous les croyei, 



And thinking to escape a rock, are drowned. 

Choose a sure judge to censure what you write, 
Whose reason leads, and knowledge gives you light, 
Whose steady hand will prove your faithful guide, 
And touch the darling follies you would hide ; 

in your doubts, will carefully advise, 
And clear the mist before your feeble eyes. 
Tis he will tell you to what noble height 
A generous muse may sometimes take her flight ; 
When, too much fettered with the rules of art. 
May from her stricter bounds and limits part ; 
But such a perfect judge is hard to see. 
And every rimer knows not poetry ; 
Nay, some there are for writing verse extolled. 
Who know not Lucan's dross from Virgil's gold. 

Would you in this great art acquire renown? 
Authors, observe the rules I here lay down. 
In prudent lessons everywhere abound, 

Pensant fair an ecuei[, souvent vous vous aojez. 

Fattes choix d'un censeur solide et salutaire. 
Que la raison conduise et le savoic eclaire, 
Et dont le crayon sflr d'abord atlle chercher 
L'endroit que Ton sent foible, et qu'on se veut cacher. 
Lui seul ectaiicira vos duutes ridicules, 
De votte esprit tiemblast IJvcia les scrupules; 
C'est lui qui vous dira pai quel transport heureux 
Quelquefois dans sa couise uu espiit vigourenx, 
Trop resserre par I'art, sort des regies preserites, 
Et de I'art mSme apprend i franchir leura limile*. 
Mais ce parfait cense ur : 
Tel excellc i rimer qui j 

Tel s'est fait par ses vers distinguer dans la ville. 
Qui jamais de Lueain n'a distingue Vitgile. 

Aateurs, prStez I'orcille i mes instructions. 
Voulez-vous faire aimer vos riches fictions? 
Qu'en savantes lemons voire muse fertile 

D,o, by Google 


With pleasant join the useful and the sound ; " 
A sober reader a vain tale wilt slight. 
Me seeks as well instmction as delight. 

Let all your thoughts to virtue be confined. 
Still offering nobler figures to our mind. 
I like not those loose writers, who employ 
Their guilty muse good manners to destroy, 
Who with false colors still deceive our eyes. 
And show us vice dressed in a fair disguise. 

Yet do I not their sullen muse approve, 
Who. from all modest writings banish love,- 
That strip the play-house of its chief intrigue, 
And make a murderer of Roderigue ; 
The lightest love, if decently expressed, . 
Will raise no vicious motions in our breast. 
Dido in vain may weep, and ask relief; 
I blame her folly whilst I share her grief. 
A virtuous author, in his charming art, 

Parloat joigne au plaisant le solide et 1'utile, 
Ud lecteur sage fuit un vain amusement, 
Et veut mettle & protit son divertissement. 

Que voire 3me el vos mteurs, peintes dans vos oin 
N'ofnrent jamais de vous que de nobles images' 
Je ne puis estimei ces dangereux auteurs 
Qui de rbonneur, en vers, infames desecleurs, 
Trahissant la vertu sur un papier coupable, 
Aux yeux de lears lecteurs rendcnf le vice aimable. 

Je ne suis pits pourtant de ces tcistes espriCs 
Qui, bannissant I'aniour de tous cbastes ecrits, 
D'un si riche ornement veulent pciver la seine, 
Traitent d'empoisonneurs et Rodrigue et Chinione. 
L'amouc le moins honnSte, eiprim^ cbastement, 
N'excite point en nous de bonteux mouvement; 
Didon a bean geinir el m'etalcr ses charmes, 
Je condamne sa faute en pactageant ses lainics. 
\Jd auteur vertueux, dans ses 


iz3j CANTO rv. 

To please the sense needs not corrupt the heart ; 

His heat will never cause a guilty fire ; 

To follow virtue then be your desire. 

In vain your art and vigor are expressed, 

The obscene expression shows the infected breast. 

But, above all, base jealousies avoid, i - 
In which detracting poets are employed. 
A noble wit dares liberally commend. 
And scorns to grudge at his deserving friend. 
Base rivals, who true wit and merit hate, 
Caballing still against it with the great, 
Maliciously aspire to gain renown. 
By standing up, and pulling others down. 
Never debase yourself by treacherous ways, 
Nor by such abject methods seek for praise. 

Let not your only business be to write ; 
Be virtuous, just, and in your friends delight. 
Tis not enough your poems be admired, 

Ne corrompl point Ic cteuc en chalouillant les sens; 
Son feu n'allume point de criminelle flamme. 
Aimez done la vectu, nounissez-en votte ime; 
En vain I'esprit est plcin d'une noble vigueur, 
Le vets se sent toujours dcs baasesses du cCBut. 

Fuycz EurEout, fuyez ces basses jalousies, 
Des vulgaires espiits malignes frenesies. 
Va sublime £crivain n'en peut 6lre infecte; 
Cest un vice qui suit la medjocrite. 
Du merite Sclatant eelte sombre rivals 
Contre lui chez les gcands incessamment cabale, 
Et, Eur les pieds ea vain tSchant de se hausser, 
Pour s'egalec k lui, cherche k le rabaisser. 
Ne descendons jamais dans ces Uches intrigues; 
N'allons point i. I'honneut par de honteuses btigues. 

Que les vers ne soient pas votre ^ternel emploi; 
Cultivei vos amis, soyei homme de foi. 
Cest peu d'Stre agtSable et charmant dans un livre. 

Do,T«jhy Google 


But strive your conversation be desired. 

Write for immortal fame, nor ever choose 
Gold for the object of a generous muse. 
I know a noble wit may, without crime. 
Receive a lawful tribute for his time, 
Yet I abhor those writers who despise 
Their honor, and alone their profits prize. 
Who their Apollo basely will degrade, 
And of a noble science make a trade. 

Before kind reason did her light display, 
And government taught mortals to obey. 
Men, like wild beasts, did nature's laws pursue, 
They fed on herbs, and drink from rivers drew ; 
Their brutal force, on lust and rapine bent. 
Committed murder without punishment. 
Reason at last, by her all -conquering arts. 
Reduced these savages, and tuned their hearts, 
Mankind from bogs, and woods, and caverns calls. 

U faut 


it encore et 

converser et 




pour la gloi 

re, et qu'un 



Ne aoit 

jamais I'objet d' 

un illostre e 




n noble esprit peut, sans 

honte ' 

et san: 

Tirer d 

e SOI 

1 travail un 

tribut legitin 


Mais je ne puis soufTrir ces auti 
Qui, degofltes de gloire, et d'argent affam^s, 
Meltent leui Apollon aux gages d'un libraire, 
E[ font d'un art diviii un metier mercenaire. 

Avant que la raison, s'expliquant par la voix, 
Eflt instruit les humains, eflt enseigne des lois, 
Tous les hommes suivoient la grossiere nature, 
Disperses dans les bois couroient k la pSture; 
La focce tenoit lieu de droit et d'equite; 
Le meurtre s'exer^oit avec impunite, 
Mais du discours enlin rharmonieuse adresse 
De ces sauvages mceurs adoucit la rudessc, 
Rassembla lea humains dans les forEts 6para, 

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3-^3] Canto iv. ; 

- And towns and cities fortifies with walls ; 
Thus fear of justice made proud rapine cease, 
And sheltered innocence by laws and peace. 

These benefits from poets we received ; 
From whence are raised those fictions since beHeved, 
That Orpheus, by his soft harmonious strains, 
Tamed the fierce tigers of the Thracian plains ; 
Amphion's notes, by their melodious powers. 
Drew rocks and woods, and raised the Theban towers. 
These miracles from numbers did arise ; 
Since which, in verse heaven taught bis mysteries, 
And by a priest, possessed with rage divine, 
Apollo spoke from his prophetic shrine. 
Soon after. Homer the old heroes praised. 
And noble minds by great examples raised ; 
Then Hesiod did his Grecian swains incline 
To till the fields, and prune the bounteous vine. 
Thus uselul rules were, by the poet's aid, 

Enfeniia lea cite* de niqis et de remparts, 
De I'aspect du supplice effraya I'insolence, 
Et sous I'appui da lois mit la foible innocence, 

Cet ordre ful, dit-on, le fmil des premiers vera. 
De \i. sont nes ces bruits re^us dans I'linivers, 
Qo'aui accens dont Orphee emplit les monls de Thrace, 
Les tigres amollis d^pouilloient leur audace; 
Qu'aux accords d'Amphion Us pierres se mouvuient, 
Et sur les murs thebains en ordre s'elevoient. 
L'harmonie en naissant produisit ces miracles. 
Depuis, le ciel en vers lit parler les oracles; 
Du sein d'un prStrc emu d'une divine horreur, 
Apollon par dea vera exhala sa fureur. 
BienlSt, reasuscLtant les heros des vieux Sges, 
HomJre aux grands' exploits anima les courages. 
Hesiode i son lour, par d'utiles le9onB, 
Des cbamps Irop paresseux vint liSter les moissons. 
En mille ecrils fanieux la sagcsse tracee 

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In easy numbers to rude men conveyed. 

And pleasingly their precepts did impart. 

First charmed the ear, and then engaged the heart ; 

The Muses thus their reputation raised. 

And with just gratitude In Greece were praised ; 

With pleasure mortals did their wonders see. 

And sacrificed to their divinity. 

But want, at last, base flattery entertained, 
And old Parnassus with this vice was stained ; 
Desire of gain dazzling the poets' eyes. 
Their works were filled with fulsome flatteries ; 
Thus needy wits a vile revenue made. 
And verse became a mercenary trade. 
Debase not with so mean a vice thy art ; 
If gold must be the idol of thy heart. 
Fly, fly the unfruitful Heliconian strand ! 
Those streams are not enriched with golden sand ; 
Great wits, as well as warriors, only gain 

Fut, i. I'aide des vers, aux mortels aimoncee; 
Et partout des esprits ses preceptes vainqueurs, 
IntroduiU par I'orcUle, enlrSrent dans lea cceurs. 
Poui tant d'heureux bienfaits, les Muses rfverees 
Furenl d'un juste encens dans la Gr^e honurees; 
Et leur ait, altirant le culte des morlels, 
A sa gloire en cent lieux vit dresser des autels. 

Mais enfin I'indlgence amenant la bassesse, 
Le Pamasse oublia sa premiere noblesse. 
Un vil amuur du gain, infeclant les esprils, 
De mensonges grossiers souilla tons les Merits; 
Et partout, enfantanC mille ouvtages frivules, 
Ttafiqua du discours el vendit les paroles. 

Ne vous fletiissez point par UD vice ai baj. 
Si I'or seul a pour vous d'invincibles appas, 
Fuyei ces lieux chamians qu'arrose le Permesse; 
Ce n'eal point Sur ses butds qu'habile la richesse. 
Ann plus savans auteurs, commc aux plus grands guerriera. 


■iw] CANTO IV. 

Laiirels and honors for their toil and pain. 

But what? aji author caiinot live on fame, 
Or pay a reckoning with a lofty name : 
A poet, to whom fortune is unkind. 
Who when he goes to bed has hardly dined. 
Takes little pleasure in Parnassus' dreams. 
Nor relishes the Heliconian streams ; 
Horace had ease and plenty when he writ. 
And, free from cares for money or for meat. 
Did not expect his dinner from his wit. 

Tis true ; but verse is cherished by the great, 
And now none famish who deserve to eat. 
What can we fear when virtue, arts, and sense, 
Receive the stars* propitious influence, 
When a sharp-sighted prince, by early grants. 
Rewards your merits, and prevents your wants? 

Sii^ then his glory, celebrate his fame ; 
Your noblest theme is his immortal name. 
Let mighty Spenser raise his reverend head, 

Apollon ne promet qu'un nom ct des lauriers. 

Mais quoi '. dans la disette une muse affBmee 
Ne peut pas, dita-t-on, subsiater de fumee; 
Ua auteui qui, presse d'un besoin impoitun, 
Le soir entend crier ses entrailles i jeun, 
Gofite peu d'Helicon les douces promenades: 
Horace a bu son soQl quand il voit les M£nades, 
Et, Ubre du souci qui trouble Colletet, 
N'attend pas, pout dtner, le succfs d'un sonnet. 

II est vrai; mais entin cette aflreuse disgrace 
Rarement parral nous affiige le Parnasse. 
Et que eraindre en ce siicle, oil toujouts les beaux arts 
D'un aalre favorable Sprouvent lea regards. 
Oil d'un prince fclaire la sage prSvoyance 
Fait partout au m^iite ignoret I'indigenee? 

Muses, dictez sa gloire i tous vi>s nourriasons; 
Son nom vaut mieox pour eux que toules vos le9on». 

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Cowley and Denham start up from the dead, 
Waller his age renew, and offerings bring ; 
Our monarch's praise let bright-eyed virgins sing : 
Let Dryden with new rules our stage refine. 
And his great models form by this design. 
But where's a second Virgil, to rehearse 
Our hero's glories in his epic verse? 
What Orpheus sing his triumphs o'er the main. 
And make the hills and forests move again ; 
Show his bold fleet on the Batavian shore, 
And Holland trembling as his cannons roar. 
Paint Europe's balance in his steady hand, 
Whilst the two worlds in expectation stand 
Of peace or war, that wait on his command? 
But, as I speak, new glories strike my eyes, 
Glories, which heaven itself does give and prize. 
Blessings of peace ; that with their milder rays 

Que Coineille, pour lui [allumant son audace, 
Soil encor le Cotneille et du Cid et d'Horace; 
Que Racine, enfantant des miracles nouveaux, 
De ses heros sur lui forme tous les tableaux; 
Que de Son nom, chante par ]a bouche des belles, 
Benserade en tous lieui amuse les ruelks; 
Que Segrais dans I'eglogue en charme les for^ts; 
Que pour lui Tepigramme aiguise tous ses traits. 
Mais quel heureuj auteur, dans une autre Eneidc, 
Aux bords du Rhin tremblant condniia cet Alcide? 
Quelle savante lyre au bruit de ses exploits 
Feca marcher encor les rochers et les bois; 
Chantera le Batave, eperdu dans I'orage, 
Soi-mSme se noyanl pour Sortie du naufrage, 
Dira les bataiUona sous Mastricht enterr^, 
Dans ces affireux assauts du soleil eclaires? 

Mais tandis que je parle, une gloire nouvclle 
Vers ce vainqueur lapide aux Alpes vous appelle. 
Dejll Ddle el Salins sous le joug ont ploy6; 

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Adorn his reign and bring Saturnian days. 

Now let rebellion, discord, vice, and rage, 

That have in patriots' forms debauched our age. 

Vanish with all the ministers of hell ; 

His rays their poisonous vapors shall dispel. 

'Tis he alone our safety did create, 

His own firm soul secured the nation's fate, 

Opposed to all the boutefeus of the State. 

Authors, for him your great endeavors raise ; 
The loftiest numbers will but reach his praise. 

For me, whose verse in satire has been bred, 
And never durst heroic measures tread. 
Yet you shall see me in that famous field, 
\Vith eyes and voice my best assistance yield. 
Offer you lessons that my infant muse 
Learnt, when she Horace for her guide did choose. 
Second your zeal with wishes, heart, and eyes. 
And afar off hold up the glorious prize. 
But, pardon too, if, zealous for the right, 

Besan^on fume encor sue son roc foudroye. 
Od sunt ces grands guerriers dont les Stales UgnM 
Devoient i ce torrent opposec tant de diguea? 
Est-ce encore en fuyant qu'ils pensent I'arrSter, 
Fiers Ju honteux honneur d'avoir su I'evitet? 
Que de remparts dStruils! Que de viUes foreeeal 
Que de moissons de glolre en courant amassees! 

Auteurs, pom les chanter redouble! vos transports; 
Le sujet ne veut paa de vulgaires efTorta. 

Four moi, qui, jusi^u'ici noutri dans la satire, 
N'ose encor man[eF la trompette et la lyre, 
Vous me verrez pourtant, dans ce champ glorieux, 

Vous offrir ces lemons que ma muse au Pamasse 
Rapporta, jeune encore, du commerce d'Horace; 
Seconder votre ardeur, echauflei vos esprits, 
Et vous montrer de loin la couronne et le prix. 

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A strict observer of each noble flight, 
From the line gold I separate the allay. 
And show how hasty writers sometimes stray ; 
Apter to blame, than knowing how to mend ; 
A sharp, but yet a necessary friend. 

Mais aaasi pardonnez, si, plein de ce beau iSle, 
De tous vos pas fameux observateur fidite, 
Quelijuefois du bon or je separe le faux, 
Et des auteurs grossiera 'j'attaque les d^fauts; 
Censeur un peu f^chcux, mais souveni necessaire. 
Plus eoclin i blSmer que savant & bien faire. 

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1 1 IT. See Wickhani, IVoris of Hurace 2. 384: "We may distinguish 
pethapa thtee putts of the poem; but they pass naturally into one another, 
and a single thread binds them together in the repeated doclrine that 
poetry is an art, and as an art has rules, and supposes previous instruction 
and patient effort. 

" Vv. 1-1 18 deal with general principles of poetry, unity of conception, 
choice of words, style of diction. 

" Vv. 119-384. When from diction he passes to characters it soon be- 
comes evident that, for some reason unexplained, he has dramatic poetry 
specially in view; and various points are touched in relation to it, some 
larger, some smaller; but the leading principle throughout is that the best 
Greek practice is to be the rule. 

" Vv. aSs-end. So we go baclt to what is applicable to all kinds of po- 
etry, — the comparison of the Greek and Roman tempierament, the two 
aims of poetry, the necessity of excellence, Che poet's high calling, the need 
of training, the folly of wilfulness." 

1 1-6. 'You expect a picture to represent something real, not incon- 
gruous and impossible combinations.' 

I 1-9 This introductory figure was probably suggested by a remark of 
Socrates in Plato's Phadrus 264 (Jowett, z. 142) : " At any rate, you will 
allow (hat every discourse ought to be a living creature, having its own 
body and head and feet; there ought to be a middle, beginning, and end, 
which accord with one another and with the whole? " Such a monstrosity 
as Horace describes is to be found in the Virgilian Scylla, ./£». 3. 426- 
428. Cf. also Triton, ^n. 3. 209-212, and Lucretius 5. 878 ff. 

1 6-2 23. 'The same rule binds a poet. What he conceives {i.i. whether 
as a whole or in detail) must be possible and whole. This rule is violated 
by the " purple patch " system. Your beauties must be nla/ani. Remem- 
ber always your purpose and its conditions,' 


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226 NOTES. 

2 t5. ' Purple patches ' is used at least five limes in Sainlsbucy's History 
of Etimbclhan Lileratare. 

2 16-18. Byron, Mints from Horace : 

Thus many a. bard desctibes in pompous strain 

The clear brook babbling through the goodly plain, 

The graves of Cranta and her Gothic halls. 

King's Coll., Cam's stream, stained windows, and old walls ; 

Or. in adventurous numbers, neatly aims 

To paint a rainbow or — Ihe river Thames. 

Z 2a. Byron, Hints from Horace .■ 
In fine, to whatsoever you aspire. 
Let it at least be simple and entire. 

3 24-31. ' Blunders in this matter proceed from the common failing, the 
incapacity to avoid one mistake without falling into its opposite. One 
wants art even to escape faults,' 

3 B*-30. Byron, Hints from Horace : 

The greater portion of the riming tribe 

(Give ear, my friend, for thou haat been a scribe) 

Are led astray by some peculiar lute. 

I labor to be brief — become obscure; 

One &.IIS while following elegance too bst; 

Another soars, inflated with l>ombast : 

Too low, a third crawls on, afraid to fly. 

He spins his subject lo satiety ; 

Ahisurdly varying, he at last engraves 

Fish in the woods, and boars beneath the tvavesl 

3 31. Longinui, On Ike Sublime 33 : " But supposing now that we 
assume the existence of a really unblemished and irreproachable writer. 
Is it not worth while to raise the whole question whether in poetry and 
. prose we should prefer sublimity accompanied by some faults, or a style 
which, never rising above moderate eloquence, never stumbles and never 
requires correction? . . . Let us take an instance: Apollonius in his 
Argonaulica has given us a poem actually faultless; and in his pastoral 
poetry Theocritus is eminently happy, except when he occasionally attempts 
another style. And what then? Would you rather be a Homer or an 
Apollonius? Or lake Eratosthenes and his Erigone; because that little 
work is without a flaw, is he therefore a greater poet than Archilochus, 
with all his disorderly profusion? greater than that impetuous, that god- 
gifted genius, which chafed against the resltjunts of law? . . ," 

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3 32-3T. ' It \% the aa.nie in sculpture. It is easier to work up some 
details than to conceive a whole. But it is as in Ibe hmnan face: a 
crooked nose spoils the effect of good eyes and hair." 
3 32-36. Pope, Essay on Criticism 243-252 : 

In wil, as nature, what aiTects our hearts 

Is not the exactness of peculiar parts ; 

"Tis not a lip, or eye, we beauly call, 

But the joint force and full result of all. 

Tlius when we view some well-proportioned dome 

(The world's just wonder, and e'en ihine, O Rome I), 

No single parts unequally surprise. 

All comes united to the admiring eyes ; 

No monslrous height or breadth or length appear; 

3 SS-Ki. ' The key lies in choosing a subject within your powera. Once 
do llial, and yuu will not fail either in tiniling plenty to say or in power to 
arrange iL By arrangement I mean knowing when to say a thing, when 
to omit or postpone it, the power to pick and choose.' 

Thus rendered by Byron, Hint! from Horace: 

Dear authors! suit your topics lo your stfength, 
And ponder well your subject and its length ; 
Nor lift your load, before you're quite aware 
What weight your shoulders will, or wil! not. bear. 
But lucid Order and Wit's siren voice 
Await the poel skilfii) in his choice; 
With native eloquence he soars along, 
Grace in his thoughts and music in his soi^. 
Let judgment teach him wisely (o combine 
With future parts Ihe now omitted line; 
This shall the author choose, or that reject. 
Precise in style and cautious to select. 

4 46-6 72. ' That must be exercised in respect of diction. It is a very 
happy knack to make an old word new by a skilful conjunction. You tnay 
also invent words if it be necessary; but it must be in moderation, and you 
will do well to go to Greek as your well-spring. The old poets invented 
words, why may not modem? Words, hke other human things, have their 
day, and pass and change.' 

4 48-5 59. Byron, Hints from Horace : 

Nor slight applause will candid pens afford 
To him who furnishes a wanting word. 
Then fear not, if 'lis needful, to produce 

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228 NOTES. 

Some term unknown, or obsolele in use. 
(Ai Piti has furnished us a word or two 
Which lexicographers declined to do) ; 
So jn^u indeed, wilh care — but be conlenl 
To take this license rarely — may invent 
New words find credil in these laltec days 
If neatly grafted on a Gallic phrase. 
What Chaucer, Spenser did, we scajce refuse 
To Dryden's or to Pope's malurer muse. 
If you can add a little, say why not. 
As well as William Pitt and Walter Scott? 
Since they, by force of rime and force of lungs, 
Enriched out bland's ilt-united tongues. 
Tis then — and shall be^ lawful to present 
Reform in writing, as in parliament. 

4 48. Aristotle, Rhtt. 3. z : " But the deception which we have in view is 
successfully effected if words are chosen from ordinary parlance, and com- 
bined, as is the practice of Euripides, and indeed is the practice of which 
he was the first to set an example." Look up Ruakin's comment on 
Milton's 'blind mouths' in Sesame and Liliei. 

460. 'The Cethegi' ia a concrete expresuon for 'the ancients' 
(Cetbegus died b.c. 196; Horace lived B.C. 65-S). The best account of 
Cethegus will be found in Cicero, Brutus 15. 58-61 (Cn Oratory and 
Orators, in Bohn'a series, pp. 277-278); add Cicero 0« Oid Age 14- 50. 
The idea of ' high-girt ' is well illustrated by the statement of Cacciaguida. 
Dante's great -great-grand father, Paradiso 15. 97-135, but especially 112- 

5 S3. Cicero agrees with Horace on Ibis |>oint; cf. his Limits ef Geed 
and EvU 3. 4. 1$. And see DiydeB,y>iseourse 0/ Efie Poitry : "I will not 
excuse, but justify, myself for one pretended crime with which I am liable 
to be charged by false critics, not only in this translation, but in many of 
my original poems — that I Latinize too much. It is true that when I find 
an English word significant and sounding, I neither borrow from the Latin 
nor any other language; but when I want at home, I must seeic abroad. 
If sounding words are not of our growth and manufacture, who shall hinder 
me to import them from a foreign country? I carry not out the treasure 
of the nation which is never to return, but what I bring from Italy I spend 
in England. Here it remains and here it circulates; for if the coin be 
good, it will pass from one hand to another. 1 trade both with the living 

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HORACE. 229 

and the dead for the enrichment of our native language. We have enough 
in England to supply our neceaaity; but if we will have things of magnifi- 
cence and splendor, we must get them by commerce. Poetry requires 
ornament, and thai is not to be had from our old Teuton monosyllables. 
Therefore, if I find any elegant word in a classic author, I propose it to be 
naturalized by using it myself; and if the public approves of il, the bill 
passes. But every man cannot distinguish betwixt pedantry and poetry; 
every man, therefore, is not fit to innovate. Upon the whole matter, a 
poet must first be certain that the word he would introduce is beautiful in 
(he Latin; and is Co consider, in the next place, whether it will agree with 
the English idiom," 

S M. CKcilius was a Frenchman (as we should now say), for whom 
see Cruttwell, Hisl. Rom. Lit., pp. 48-49. 

5 BB. For Varius see Cruttwell, Hiil. Rom. Lit., pp. 250-251. 

5 66. Cato (B.C. 234-149) was the 'creator of Latin prose writing' 
(see Cruttwell, pp. 91-98). Enniua (209-169) wis ' the Father of Roman 
Poetry' (see Cruttwell, pp. 58-62, 68-78). 

Seoff. For the figure see Homer, //. 6. 146-149; Ecclesiastic us 14. 18; 
Dante, Par. 26, 137-138. Dante probably imitates Horace, since he 
quotas line 70 in his Banqutt (2. 14), and places Horace next to Homer 
in the Infirno (4. 89). 

6 73-7 »e. ' The different types of poetry have been marked out by the 
Greek masters, and stamped with tbeir appropriate mtlrts ; and we must 
keep to them.' 

6 J3-7 62. Byron, Hints from Horace : 

The immortal wars which gods and angels wage. 

Are they not shown in Milton's sacred page? 

His strain will teach what numbers best belong 

To themes celestial (old in epic song. 

The slow, sad slania will correctly paint 

The lovers anguish or the friend's complainl. 

But which deserves the laurel^ rime or blank ? 

Which holds on Helicon the higher rank ? 

Let squabbling critics by themselves dispute 

This point, as puzzling as a Chancery suiL 

Satiric rime first sprang from selfish spleen. 

You doubt ? — see Dryden, Pope, Si. f^rick's dean. 

Blank verse is now, with one consent, allied 

To Tragedy, and rarely quits her side. 

Though mad Almanior rimed in Dryden's days. 

No sing-song hero rants in modern plays, 

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6 TS-T8. The following account of the elegy is largely based upon 
Christ's statements in his CtschUhU dtr griechischen Littralur (MWler's 
Handbuik dtr ktassiscken Alterthunis-Wiisensckaft 7. 92 ff-j cf. Gleditsch. 
Handbuik 2, 51E). The derivation of the word 'elegy ' is unceitain. If 
Greek, it probably comes from the refrain t \iye t tUyt t (cf. iEschylus, 
Agam. 1Z1); but it may be Phrygian, Carian, or ancient Armenian. The 
elegiac measure was first developed as melody only, before words were 
added; and this music was originally that of the flute. Later the poetry 
was either sung or recited. The unit of elegiac song or recitation was the 
distich, composed in dactylic verse. Its characteristic was the second 
line, which consisted of a Homeric hexameter abbreviated at its middle 
and end. This truncation gave the line a broken character which adapted 
it to the expression of grief, the pauses at the middle and end representing 
either the silence which follows a frantjc outburst of sorrow, or the prolon- 
gation of the wail with which such a passionate exclamation would close. 
This line was preceded, in the distich, by a regular Homeric hexameter, 
and thus the couplet represented the alternations of uncontrollable grief 
and relative composure. The stately fluency of the hexameter, as contrasted 
with the inlerruptcdnesa of the following pentameter, ia well rendered in 
Coleridge's translation of Schiller's lines; 

Here was the origin of the strophe; the first step toward the creation of 
the stanza was taken in thus forming the elegiac distich. Whoever was 
the inventor of the elegy as a form of poetry, it certainly originated in 
Asiatic Ionia. The invention is often attributed to Callinus (first half of 
the seventh century); but it must have been older, for he manipulates it 
with too much skill to have been the originator of it. 

An interesting parallel to the alternation of long with shorter lines for 
elegiac purposes is furnished by the Hebrew elegy, as described in Driver's 
Introduction to the Lileraturi of Ike Old T'w/a'HcB^ pp. 429-43O: "The 
verse itself may consist of one or more members; but each member, which 
contains on an average of not more than five or six words, is divided by a 
casura into two unequal parts, the first being usually about the length of 
a.n ordinary vcrse-mcmher, the second being decidedly shorter, and very 

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t parallel in thought to the first. An example or two, even ii 
>n, will make the character of the rhythm apparent: 
I, I How dolh the city sil solilaiy, — she Ihat was full of people 1 
She is become as a widow, — she thai was great among the natioi 

1-3 I 


m the man lha( hath s 

een afHiction — by the rod of his wrai 


halh he led and caus 

ed lo go — in darkness and not in lig 


■ely against me he e»e 

T lurnelh his hand — all the day. 

. . . The first member, instead of being balanced and reinforced by the 
second (as is ordinarily the case in Hebrew poetry), is echoed by it imper- 
fectly, so that it seems, as it were, to die away in it, and a plaintive, mel- 
ancholy cadence is thus produced. ... It is, moreover, to be observed 
that the rhythm seems to be chosen intentionally, for in the context the 
ordinary poetical rhythm, with verse-members of equal length, is, as a rule, 
employed. . . . Probably also the elegiac rhythm which has been described 
was accompanied by a corresponding plaintive melody, and in any case it 
was connected with mournful associations. ■ . . Exquisite as is the pathos 
which breathes in the poetry of these dirges, they are thus, it appears, 
constructed with conscious art. They are not the unstudied effusions of 
natural emotion, they are carefully elaborated poems," 

The language of the earlier elegies was decidedly Homeric. Accord- 
ing to Symonds (Crirrf /V/I i. 15), the elegiac metre was first "used to 
express the emotions of love and sorrow, and afterwards came to be the 
vehicle of moral sentiment and all stroag feeling. Callinus and Tyrlsus 
adapted the elegy to songs of battle. Solon consigned his wisdom to its 
couplets, and used it aa a trumpet for awakening (be seal of Athens against 
her tyrants. Mimnerinus confined the metre to its more plaintive melo- 
dies, and made it the mouthpiece of lamentations over the fleeting beauty 
of youth and the evils of old age. In Theognis the elegy takes wider 
scope. He uses it alike for satire and invective, for precept, for auto- 
biographic grumblings, for political discourses, and for philosophical 
apothegms." And again (1. 68) ; " Three periods may be marked in the 
development of the early Greek elegiac poetry, — the martial, the erotic, 
and the gnomic." 

The original elegy of lamentation gave rise to the epigram, which was 
originally an epitaph. Allied to the erotic was the symposiac, or drinking- 
song. Erotic elegy was revived in the Alexandrian period, and took 
on a learned cast. The most famous composer of the latter species is 
Callimachus. From Alexandria it passed to Rome, where we find it repre- 

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tented by Propertios, Catullus, and Ovid. The elegiac meuDTC has been 
but little cnltivaled in English, The fint who endeavored to reproduce it 
was Sir Philip Sidney, in his Arcadia. In our time it has been attempted 
by Swinburne, in the poem entitled Hesptria, which also has altecuate 
rimes, and therefore doel not represent the measure in its purity. The 
moll famous of modem elegies are the Raman Elegits of Goethe. 

The character of the Greelt elegy is well summed up by Mahafly, HiU. 
Greek Lit. l . 1 58 : " Perhaps there are three points, and three points only, 
which may be called permanent features in elegiac poetry, !n the first 
place, it is ptrtonal, subjective as the Germans call it, and this feature 
comes out plainly enough even where the poet is discussing public topics, 
as in Solon's elegies, or narrating epic myths, as Antimachus in bis Lydt. 
Even these were strictly personal poems. In the second place, it is almost 
always stotlar, religious poetry being either hexameter or strictly lyric in 
form. TTiirdly, it is Jonic, and eicept in the case of epigrams or epitaphs, 
which are always of a local color, is restricted to the dialect where it first 

6 79. For Archilochus, see Syroonds, Greet Paris i. 98-104. Mahaffy 
says, ffisl. Grick Li/, i. 1 5(1 : " In coarseness, terseness, and bitterness he 
may justly be called the Swift of Greek Literature." 

6 70-7 81!. The remarks of Aristotle and Quintilian on the iambic will 
serve to elucidate these lines, Aristotle, Poet. 4. 9; "In these [the Mar- 
gites and the like] the iambic metre appropriately appears, a satire being 
now called an iambic poem because it was in this metre that they satirized 
each other; and some of the old poets became writers of heroics, some of 
iambics," Peel. 24, S : " The iambic and trochaic are lively metres, the 
one suited for action, the other for dancing," Pocl. i. 14: "The metre 
[of the drama] was changed from trochaic tetrameter to iambic trimeter. 
At the first the trochaic was used through its being proper to Satyric 
dramas, and better suited for dancing; but when style arose, Nature her- 
self discovered the proper metre, the iambic being of all metres the 
most like prose, as is proved by the fact that in conversation with each 
other we employ iambics most of all metres, hexameter seldom, and only 
when we depart from the harmony of prose." Aristotle, Hh/t. 3. i : 
"... The styles of prose and of poetry being distinct, as is shown by the 
fact that the writers of tragedies themselves have ceased to use the poetical 
style as once they did, and that, as they passed from the tetrameter to the 
iambic measure, as being the metre which hears the closest resemblance to 
prose," etc. . . . Hhel. 3. 8; "The iambic rhythm, on the other hand, is 
the very diction of ordinary life, and is therefore of all metres the most 

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HORACE. 233 

Ttequent in converaation ; bul it is deficient in dignity and imptessiveness." 
Quintilian, IttstituUs 9. 4. 136: "The elevated portions of a speech re- 
<)uire long anil sonorous syllables; they like the fulness of the dactyl also, 
and of the pxon, which, though it consists mostly of short syllables, is yet 
sufficiently strong in times. Rougher parts, on the contrary, are best set 
forth in iambic feel, not Only because they consist of only two syllables, 
and consequently allow of more frequent beats as it were, a quality 
opposed to calmness, but because every foot rises, springing and bounding 
from short to long, and is for that reason preferable to the trochee, which 
from a long falls to a short." Cf. note on 19 2M. 

6 SO. The sock and buskin are metaphorically used for comedy and 

7 SS-BG. Macleane'B note on the passage deserves to be quoted : 
"Though the flute (' tibia ') came very early into use as an accompani- 
ment to lyric poetry, it has always retained the name it originally derived 
from the lyce. The description of Horace includes the choral lyric of the 
Doric school and the poetry of the .i^lolic school. The former was adapted 
to a choir, the latter only to a single voice. The former was so called 
because it was cultivated by (he Dorians of the Peloponnesus and Sicily; 
the latter flourished among the .i^lians of Asia Minor, and particularly in 
the island of Lesbos. The one celebrated gods and heroes or renowned 
citizens, and was used at public festivals or at marriages and funerals; the 
other expressed individual thoughts and feelings. Alca^us and !iappho are 
the chief representatives of the latter school; of the former, Alcman and 
Stesichorus, Ibycus, Simonides, Bacchylides, and Pindar. Stesichorus and 
Ibycus were most celebrated for their poems on mythological subjects 
('divoE puerosque deorum'), while Simonides and Pindar were the great- 
est in ^xi»(iHa, hymns in honor of the victors at public games (' et pugilem 
victorem et equum certamine primum '), and the poets of wine and passion 
Cjuvenuro curas et libera vina') were Alcieus, Sappho, Simonides, and 
Bacchylides. Horace does not mention one class of lyric poems, the 
threnes or dirges for the dead, of which Simonides was the greatest 

7 89-91(8. 'So generally with respect to the style ef diction. The 
comic and the tragic are distinct, though of course to a certain extent 
each borrows the tone of (he other. This is owing to the larger law that 
emotion is only stirred by emotion, and the language must correspond 
to the emotion. Respect must be had, too, to the characters who are 

7 91. Who was Thyesles? 

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7 94. CArrmei. A character in the St//- Tormcnior of Terence. The 
passage referred to is prolwbly Act 5, Scene 4. 

S 96. Who were Telephus and Peleus? 

8 99-IOB, Byron, Hints from Horaet : 


enough, y 


-^ilh all your 



h poems. 


ust touch the 



r the seen 


whate'er the 


Slill let 

t bear Ihe 

soul along ; 


r (o smile or 



er may pi 


— anything b 

ul sleep 

bould sleep or sneer. 

899. Cf. Aristotle, Rhei. 3. 7: "The conditions of propriety in a 
speech are that the style should be emotional and ethical and at the same 
time proportionate to the aubject-ina.tteT. ... A listener is always in 
sympathy with an emotional speaker, even though what he says is wholly 

8 100. Horace is evidently criticiiing poems which are 
Faultily faultless, icily regular, splendidly null, 
Dead perfection, no more. 

8 108-9 113. Byron, Hints from Horace: 

She bids the beating heart with rapture bound. 
Raised to the stars, or leveled with the ground; 
And for expression's aid, 'tis said ot sung, 
She gave our mind's interpreter — ihe longue; 
Who, worn with use, o( late would fain dispense 
(At least in theatres) with common sense, 
O'erwbelm with sound the traies, gallery, pit. 
And raise a laugh with anything — but wit. 

9 115-11^ Examples of all these are found, for example, in Remeo and 


9 ll$-10 137. ' In respect of charaittrs you may follow tradition or 
invent. In either case you have your law. Traditional characters must 
keep their traditional features. Newly invented ones must be consistent 
with their own idea.' 

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Cf. Byron, Minis from Horace : 

Or follow common fame, or forge a plot. 

Present him raving and above all law ; 
H female furies In your scheme are planned, 
Macbeih's fierce dame is ready lo your hand; 
For tears and treachery, for good and evil. 
Conslance, King Richard, Hamlet, and the Devil I 
But if a new design you dare essay. 
And freely wander from the beaten way, 
True lo yonr characters fill all be past. 
Preserve consistency from first lo last. 

9 J19 fT. For the whole subject of ancieni plays see Moollon, Ancient 
Classical Drama. 

9 120 ff. Cf. Aristotle, Fact. 14. 5 : "We must not, however, destroy 
received stories, I mean i^. that of Qytemnestra skin by Orestes, or 
Eriphyle by Alcmxon, but invent for ourselves, and use tradition aright." 

10 12s. Cf. Aristotle, /*<«■/. 9. 7 : " In Agalhon's Flowtr incidents and 
names are alike fictitious, and yet it pleases. So that we must not always 
seek to keep to the received stories with which tragedies are concerned. 
It would even be absurd to do so, since even the known events are few 
and yet please all." 

10 12a-13G. ' Real originality in 
cnit that y6u are doing better to 
than to start a new plot. There is 
iimils, in the choice of yonr subject ai 
Byron, Hints from Horace : 

'TIs hard to venture where our betters fail. 
Or lend fresh Interest to a twice-told tale ; 

A hackneyed plot, than choose a new, and err: 
Yet copy not too closely, but record. 
Most justly, thought for thought than word for word; 
Nor trace yout prototype through narrow ways. 
But only follow where he merits praise. 

10m. Cf. Aristotle, Poii. 9. 6: "In tragedy wc keep to 
names, the reason being that the possible is credible; what has not 

dealing with c( 

>mmon things is s 



:ize som. 

e of the Hoi 


c story 

s room 


1 these 

t and ir 

1 the fre< 

=dom of youi 

■ imitation.' 

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236 NOTES. 

we no vay believe to be possible, but what has occurred was plainly pos- 
sible, or it would not have occurred." 

U 136-12 lfi2. ' Imitate Homer in the modesty of your beginniDg, in 
avoiding lengthy and prosaic introductions, in consistency of slury.' 

11 136. For the Cyclic poets cf. Maha%, Hist. Griek Lit. I. 85-89. 

11 t4D-lB2. Byron, Hints from Horace 

Not so of yore awohe your mighty sire 
The tempered warblii^ of his masler-lyre: 
Soft as the gentler breathing of the lute. 

He speaks, but. as his subject swells along. 

Earth, Heaven, and Hades echo with ihe sor^. 

Still to the midst of things he hastens on. 

As if Ke wimessed all already done ; 

Leaves on his path whatever seems loo mean 

To raise the subject or adorn the scene; 

Gives, as each pt^ impioves upon Ihe sight. 

Not smolce from brightness, but from darkness — light. 

And truth and ficdon with such art compounds, 

We know not wheie 10 fix Iheir several Iwunds. 

11 140-142. Addison, as well as Byron, gives this credit to Milton 
{Sficlalar, No. 303) : "These lines [the first si:<] are perhaps as plain, 
simple, and unadorned as any of the whole poem, in which particular the 
author has conformed himself to the example of Homer and Ihe precept 
of Horace." 

1 1 141-142. A paraphrase of the fir^ lines of the Oifyssfy, 
11 14S. Kor Anliphates see Od. 10. 76-132; for Scylla and Charybdis, 
Od. 12, 73-126, 222-259, 426-446; for the Cyclops, Od. g. 105-566. 

11 140. Wickham paraphrases: ' He no more begins a Diomedeia (i.e. 
would do so if he wrote one ... ) . . - than he (actually) begins bis 
Iliad; etc, Ct Aristotle, Foft. 8. 3 : "In writing the Odyssty he did not 
introduce everything that happened to (Xlysseus. e.g. his being wounded 
on Parnassus, or feigning madness when the army was asembling," 

12 lM-152. Cf. Aristotle, Putt. 7. 2 : " We have laid down that tragedy 
is the representation of whole and complete action of some compass. . . . 
A whole is that which has beginning and middle and end." And see note 
on 1 1-8, 

12 153-13 ITS. 'The first point an audience cares for is a real discrimi- 
nation of the characteristics of human nature in each of Che stages of life. 
These must be well studied.' 

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12 153-1B7. Byton, Hints /root Horaci : 

If you would please the public, deign lo hear 
What soothes the many-headed monster's ear; 
If your heart triumph when the hands of all 
Applaud in thunder at the curtain's fall. 
Deserve those plaudits — study nature's page, 
And sketch the striking traits of every age; 
While varying man and varying years unfold 
Life's little tale, so oft, so vainly told. 

12150. Cf. Shakespeare's Seven Ages (A. V. L. z. 7. 139-166), and 
Aristotle, Rhcl., Book 2, chaps. 12, 13, 14 (Welldon's translation, pp. 

14 179-198. 'They must then be set out in action, not in narrative; but 
(his not carried to the extent of producing revolting or marvelous scenes 
on the stage.' 

14 179-187. Byron, Hints from Horace: 

But from the Drama let me not digress, 

Nor spare my precepts, though Ihey please you less. 

When what is done is rather seen than heard. 
Yet many deeds preserved in history's page 
Are better told than acted on the stage ; 
The ear sustains what shocks the timid eye. 
And horror thus subsides to sympathy. 
True Briton all !>eside, I here am French — 
Bloodshed 'tis surely better to retrench; 
The gladiatorial gore we leach lo flow 
In tragic scene disgusts, though but in show ; 
We hate the carnage while we see the trick. 
And find small sympathy in being sick. 
Not on the stage the regicide Macbeth 
Appals an audience wilh a monarch's death ; 
To gaze when sable Hubert threats to sear 
Young Arthur's eyes, can ours or nature bear? 
Above all things, Dan Poel, if you can, 

Nor call a ghost, unless some cursed scrape 
Must open ten irap-doors tot your escape. 

14 18*-15 192. 'Five acts, no more and no less. A deus tx mackina 
only when the occasion really requires it. Three characters only on the 

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238 NOTES. 

Aristotle divides otberwise (/WAVi, cbap, ta). Horace's diTision is 
followed by the tragedies of Seneca, which were largely imitated in the 
Renaissance period, and it is perhaps Ihiough this medium thai il has 
reached the mudern stage. The division of Roman comedies into live acts 
does not appear to be earlier than [he fourth century a.d. 

14 191, Aristotle does not approve of a deui ex maihina at all {^Peet. 
15. 7) : " It is plain, then, that Che solution of the plot should arise out 
of the plot itself, and not be mechanical as in the Medea [of Euripides], 
or the passage about [he sailing away from Troy in the !Iiai/[Il.z. 155 ff.]. 
Mechanical means [i.e. divine intervention] should be used for things out- 
side the play, whether what has happened before which il is impossible 
for a man to know, or what happens after which needs prophecy or 
reporting ) to the gods we attribute omniscience." 

15 192. .^sehylus had introduced a second actor, Sophocles a third 
(Aristotle, Pott. 4. 13). Horace would allow no more on the stage at a 

15 199-201. ' On the other hand, the Chorus must be treated as an 
integral part of the drama. Its business is to help on (he action, and 
specially to take the moral and religious side in it.' 

IS 193. Aristotle, Pott. 19. 7 ; "The Chorus should be assumed to be 
one of the actors and part of the whole, engaging in the competition as 
in Sophocles, not as in Euripides. In other poets the songs have no more 
to do with the plot than with a different tragedy; wherefore they sing 
interludes, a practice first started by Agathon." 

15 202-18 339. ' The lyrical part of the drama was simpler in old days. 
As audiences have become more mixed the music became more elaborate, 
the diction more stilted, the lone more oracular. (In the same way) the 
desire to interest a miscellaneous audience led to adding the Satyric drama 
to tragedy. But moderation and tact are necessary. Tragic characters 
must not be lowered in the following Satyric drama. Neither need they 
rant. Tragedy has its proper dignity; so has the Satyric drama itself. It 
is not tragedy, but neither is it comedy.' 

For the Satyric drama, see Moulton, Aneienl Classical Drama. 

n 220-224. Thus translated by Goldsmith, Essay on the Origin of 

Patlry: „ . . , ...... 

The tragic bard, a goat his humble pnze. 

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HORACE. 239 

17 220 ff. The only Satyric drama which has been preserved to us is 
The Cyclops of Euripides. See the translation by Shelley, and the analysis 
in Moulton, Ancient Classical Drama, pp. 197-198. Dryden's account is 
as follows {^Discourse on Satiri): "Thespis, ot whoever he were that 
invented tragedy (foi authors differ), mingled with them a chorus and 
dances of Satyrs which bad before tieen used in the celebration of their 
festivals, and there they were ever afterwards retained. The character of 
them was also kept, which was mirth and wantonness; and this was given, 
I suppose, to the folly of the common audience, who soon grow weary of 
good sense, and, as we daily see in our own age and country, are apt to 
forsake poetry, and still ready to return to buffoonery and farce. From 
hence it came that in the Olympic Games, where the poets contended for 
four priies, the satiric tragedy was the last of them, for in the test the 
Satyrs were excluded from the chorus. Amongst the plays of Euripides 
which are yet remaining, there is one of these satyrics, which is called The 
Cyclops, in which we may see the nature of those poems, and from thence 
conclude what Ulceness they have to the Roman satire. 

"The story of this Cyclops, whose name was Polyphemus (so famous in 
the Grecian fables), was that Ulysses, who with his company was driven 
on the coast of Sicily, where those Cyclops inhabited, coming to ask relief 
from Silenus and the Satyrs, -who were herdsmen to that one-eyed giant, 
was kindly received by them and entertained, till, being perceived by 
Polyphemus, they were made prisoners, against the rites of hospitality (for 
which Ulysses eloquently pleaded), were afterwards put down into the 
den, and some of them devoured; after which Ulysses (having made him 
drunk when he was asleep) thrust a great firebrand into his eye, and so 
revenging his dead followers, escaped with the remaining party of the 
living; and Silenus and the Satyrs were freed from their servitude under 
Polyphemus, and remitted to their first liberty of attending and accompany- 
ing their patron Bacchus. , 

"This was the subject of the tragedy, which, being one of those that 
end with a happy event, is therefore by Aristotle judged below the other 
sort, whose success is unfortunate. Notwithstanding which, the Satyrs 
(who were part of the dramatis persona, as well as the whole chorus) 
were properly introduced into the nature of the poem, which is mixed ot 
farce and tragedy. The adventure of Ulysses was to entertain the judging 
part of the audience, and (be uncouth persons of Silenus and the Satyrs 
to divert the common people wilh their gross railleries." 

18 237. DavMS. A character in the Andria of Terence. 

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8 £38. Pythias and Simo wete probably cfaaracters in a comedf bj 
ilius, the former a slave girl, the latter her master. 
8 239. For Silenus cf. Tht Cyclops uf Euripiilea (note on 17 220 ff.). 
3 210-243. ' Do not look fur an original story, only for freshness of 

18 340-242. Byron, Hints from Horaci : 

Whom nalure guides, so wriles that every dunce 
Enraptured thinks lo do the same at once; 
Bui after inky ihumbs and bitten nails 
And twerly scattered quires, the coxcomb faib. 

1SS41. Pascal. Tiougiis i. 3; "The best books are those that every 
reader thinks he might have written liimself." 

IS 244-19 2t>a. ■ The chorus of satyrs must keep from low and coarse 
language; think of the better, not of Ihe worse part of your audience.' 

19 248-2M. Byron, Hints from Horaci : 

A vulgar scribbler, certes. stands di^raced 
In this nice age, when all aspire to tastei 
The ditty language and the noisome je5t 
Which pleased in Swift of yore, we now detest. 

19 2S1-Z0 2G9. 'Metre. Avoid the great fault of the older Roman 
tragedians, heavy and spondaic verses. Koman poets have been demoral- 
ised by inartistic audiences. Neither presume on this nor be slavishly 
afraid of censure, but steep yourself in Greek models,' 

19 251-20 2C2. Byron, Hints from Horace ■ 

Peace to Swift's faults! his wit hath made them pass. 
Unmatched by all save matchless Hudibrasl 
Whose author is perhaps the first we meet 
Who from our couplet lopped two final feet; 
Nor less in merit than the longer line. 
This measure moves a favorite of the Nine. 
Though at first view eight feel may seem in vain 
Formed, save in ode, to bear a serious strain. 
Yet Scott has shown our wondering isle of late 
This measure shrinks not from a Iheme of weight. 
And, varied skilfully, surpasses far 

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19 Wt ff. A similar lesson in Englisli metrical feet is given by Coleridge : 

Trochee (rips from long to sbort ; 

From long lo long in solemn sort 

Slow Spondee stalks ; strong fool I yel Ul able 

Ever 10 come up wiih Dactyl trisyllable. 

Iambics march from short lo long; — 

With a leap and a bound the swift AnapEesis Ihrong ; 

One syllable long, with one shon at each side. 

Amphibrachys hasles wlih a stalely stride; — 

First and last being long, middle short, Amphiroacer 

Strikes bis thundering hook like a proud high-bred racer. 

20 265-269. Byron, Hints fi-am Horau : 

And must the bard his glowing thoughts confine, 

Lest censure hover o'er some faulty line? 

Remove whale'er a critic may suspect, 

To gain the paltry suffrage of ' corrnt ' f 

Or prune the spirit of each daring phrase. 

To fly from error, not to merit praise? 

Ye who seek finished models, never cease • 

By day and night lo read the works of Greece. 

20 2««'26ll. Pope, Essay on Criticism 124-139: 
Be Homer's works your study and delight, 
Read ibem by day, and meditate by ni^t ; 
Thence form your judgment, thence your maxims bring. 
And trace ihe Muses upward to their spring. 
Still, with itself compared, his text peruse, 
And lei your comment be the Mantuan Muse. 

20 270-21 214. ' No doubt your ancestors put up with and praised 
Plaulus for his rhythms as well as his wit; bul they were too indulgent in 
both points. We should know the rules of art better.' 
20 2T0-21 274. Byton, Hints from Horace : 

But our good fathers never bent their brains 

To heathen Greek, content with native strains. 

The few w 

Were sali; 

The jokes and numliers suited lo their taste 

Were quaint and careless, anything bul chaste; 

Yet whether right or wrong Ihe ancient rule*, 

It will not do to call our Others foolsl 


Though you and I, wbo eruditely know 
To separate the elegant and low, 
Can also, when a hobbling line appeais, 
Deled with fingeis, in delault o[ ears. 

21275-284. 'TbeGreeksate themasters: they invented the drama and 
pecfecled it, tragedy and even comedy, from the too free criticism of the 
older type to the more sober and toothless new comedy of manneri.' 
21 276-27T. Goldsmith, EiSay on the Origin of Poclry : 
Thespis, inventor of dramatic art. 
Conveyed hb vagrant actors In a can ; 
High o'er the crowd the mimic tribe speared. 
And played and aung. with lees of wine besmeared. 

21 281-284. Byron, Hints from Horace .- 

Old comedies still meet with much aj^lause, 
Thoi^b too licentious for dramatic laws ; 
At least, we modems, wisely, "lis confessed. 
Curtail or silence the lascivious jesl. 

21 281. Aristophanes is the representative of the Old Comedy, An 
excellent translation of his Aiharnians, Knights, and Birds is Frere's, 
published in Morley's Universal Library (RouHedge). 

212HS-22 2M. 'But Diu countrymen have imitated every phase, and 
have struck out lines of their own both in tragedy and comedy. Indeed, 
Rome would rival Greece in literature as in arms, were it not for our 
laziness in perfecting our work.' 

Translated by Byron, Hints from Horace: 

Whate'er their follies, and their faults beside, 

Our enterprising bards pass naught untried ; 

Nor do they merit slight applause who choose 

An English subject for an English muse. 

And leave to minds which never dared invent, 

French flippancy and German sentiment. 

Where is (hat living language which could claim 

Poetic more, as philosophic, feme, 

II all our bards, more patient of delay. 

Would stop, like Pope, to polish by the way? 

22 296-301. 'This laziness is reduced to a theory. Men undervalue art 
in comparison with the native gift, ajid look on that as (be anlithe^ of 

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HORACE. 243 

22 296. Cf. Plato, Phadrus 245 (Jowell's translation, 2. 121-122): 
"There is also a third kind of madness, of those who are possessed hy the 
Muses; which enters into a delicate and virgin soul, and Iheie inspiring 
frenzy, awakens lyrical and all other nnmbers; with these adorning the 
myriad actions of ancient heroes for the instruction of posterity. But he 
who, having no touch of the Muses' madness in his soul, comes to the 
door and thinks that he will get into the temple by the help of art — be, I 
say, and his poetry are not admitted ; the sane man is nowhere at all when 
be enters into rivalry with (he madman." See also my edition of Shelley's 
Dtfinst of Potlry, notes on 40 23-26 and 23 «, and the discussion on pp. 

22 297. DimocTitus. Ciceco, Ckaracler of the Orator 2. 46. 194: " 1 
have often heard that no man can be a good poet (as they say is left 
recorded in the writings of both Democritus and Plato) without ardor of 
imagination, and the excitement of something similar to frenzy." Cf. 
Cicero On Divination 1 . 37. 80. 

22 297-298. Byron, Hinlifroni Horace : 

But (ruth lo say, most rimers rarely guard 
Against thai ridicule Ibey deem so hard ; 
In person negligent, they wear, from sloth. 
Beards oF a week and nails of annual growth 1 
Reside in garrets, fly from those they meet, 
And walli in alleys rather than the street. 
2Z 300. Anticyra, a town in Phocis, was celebrated for piodncing helle- 
bore, believed to be a cure for insanity. 

22 301-23 308. ' As I cannot follow them, T have given up writing poetry 
myself, but I am trying to teach others to write it, as a whetstone makes 
knives cut, though it cannot cut itself.' 

23 3O4r-80B. Byron, Hints from Horace: 

But since (perhaps my feelings are too nice) 

I cannot purchase fame at such a price, 

rit labor gratis as a grinder's wheel, 

And, blunt myself, give edge to others' sleel. 

Nor write ai all, unless to leach the art 

To those rehearsing for the poet's pari ; 

From Horace show the pleasing paths of song, 

And from my own example — what is wrong. 
23 304. A similar use of the figure is ascribed to Isocraies, in the lifa 
of that orator formerly attributed to Plutarch, Being asked why he did 
not speak in public, since he taught the art of public speaking to others, 

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244 NOTES. 

he is wid to have replied (_/Jvfs eftke Ten Orators, p. 83S E) : "So whet- 
stones cannot cut, but they give a cutting edge to steel." 

23 3l»-Z4 318. 'Good writine begins iu good thinking. Read Plato, 
understand human life, draw direct from that, and then your characters 
will speak like living beings.' 

23 30S-311. Byron, Hints frem Hirrait : 

Though modem practice sometimes differs quite, 
'Tis just as well 10 think beroreyou write; 
Let every book thai suits your (heme be read, 

23 309. Wickham says, in his note on the passage: "These lines seen) 
to give a keynote to the Ars Poetica. It i« (be reconciliation of the breach, 
if it ever was a serious one, between Horace's literary and philosophical 
inclinations. . . . 'Sound poetry' ('scribendj recte' . . . ), so far from 
being the product of a crazed brain, has behind it sound thinking, the 
trained intelligence of the philosopher, at second hand from the study of 
books (v. 310), and at first hand from the study of life (v. 317)." And 
B^ain in his edition of the Works, 2. 335: •' Scribendi rectt sapere est et 
firincipium it fans is the motto of the Ars Poetica. ... It is as 
though Horace's two tastes and interests had run at last into one stream. 
Philosophy is 00 longer the rival of poetry, but has become her instruc- 

Olber Latin authors afford confirmation of Horace's statement. Hins 
Cato (Jordan's ed., p. 8o) : " Lay hold of the subject, and the words will 
follow " (rem line, verba sequentur) ; Cicero, Character of the Orator 3. 31. 
125; "Copiousness of matter produces copiousness of language" (the 
whole of the thirty-first chapter should be consulted). Nor have some 
of the best modern authors failed to echo this opinion. See, in particular, 
Lewes' Principles of Success in Literature. Thus Dryden, Discourse oil 
Epic Poetry .- " And whereas poems which are produced by the vigor of 
imagination only have a gloss upon them at the first (which time wears 
off), the works of judgment are like the diamond, the more they are pol- 
ished the more Instre they receive, . . . Such a sort of reputation is my 
aim, though in a far inferior degree." And to Ibe same effect Sir Walter 
Scott, Life of Dryden (ed. Sainlsbury), pp. 402-403 : "TTie distinguishing 
characteristic of Dryden's genius seems to have been the power of reason- 
ing, and of eipressing the result in appropriate language. This may seem 
slender praise; yet these were the talents that led Bacon into the recesses 
of philosophy, and conducted Newton to the cabinet of nature. The prose 
wpriti of Dryden l>ear repeated evidence to his philosophical powers. . . 

■ Dioiir^dhyGoogle 

HORACE. 245 

This power of ratiocination, o[ inveitigating, discvTering, and appreciating 
that which is realty excellent, if accompanied with the necessary command 
of ranciful illustration and elegant expression, is the most interesting quality 
which can be possessed by a poet. It must indeed have a share in the 
composition of everything that \s truly estimable in (he fine arts, as v/M as 
in philosophy. Nothing is so easily attained as the power of presenting the 
extrinuc qualities of tine painting, line music, or line poetry; the beauty 
of color and outline, the combination of notes, the melody of versification, 
may be imitated by artists of mediocrity; and many will view, hear, or 
peruse their performances, without being able po^tively to discover why 
they should not, since composed according to all the rules, afford pleasure 
equal to those of Raphael, Handel, or Dryden. The deficiency lies in the 
vivifying spirit, which, like alcohol, may be reduced to the same principle 
in all, though it assumes such varied qualities from the mode in which it is 
exerted or combined." 

24 31T. Pope, Essay an Criticism 68-79: 

Firs! follow Nature, and your judgment frame 
By her just standard, which is still the same ; 
Unerring Nature, still divinely bright. 
One clear, unchanged, and universal light. 
Life, force, and beauty must lo all impart. 
At once the source, and end, and test of Art. 
Art from that fund each jusl supply provides. 
Works wilhoul show, and without pomp presides. 
In some bir body thus the informing soul 
With spirits feeds, wilh vigor fills the whole. 
Each motion guides, and every nerve sustains; 
Ilseif unseen, but in the effects, remains. 

24 319-25 332. ' Roman audiences give even a disproportionate value to 
good sentiments and morals, and too little to poetic beauty. This is the 
result of our vulgarizing practical education.' 

For another rendering see Byron, Hints from Horaci : 

Sometimes a sprightly wit. and tal< well told. 
Without much grace, or weight, or art, will hold 
A longer empire o'er the public mind 
Than sounding trifles, empty, though refined. 
Unhappy Greece ! thy sons of ancient days 
The muse may celebrate with peiftct praise. 
Whose generous children narrowed no! their hearts 
With commerce, given alone lo arms and ails. 

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246 NOTES. 

Oui boys (save tbow whom public schools compel 

To ' long and short ' betbie ihejr'ce laught to spetl) 

From frugal bihers soon imbibe by role 

' A peoDy taxed, my tad, 's a penny got' 

' Babe of a city binh I from sixpence take 

The (bird, bow much will the remainder make?* — 

' A groBt.' — ' Ah. bravo < Dick hatb done the sum I 

He'll swell my fifty thousand lo a plum.' 

They whose young souls receive this rust betimes, 

Tis clear, are fit tor any thing but rimes ; 

And Locke will tell you thai the Cither's right 

Who hides all verses from his children's sight; 

For poets (says this sage, and many more,) 

Make sad mechanics wilh their Ij^c lore ; 

And Delphi now, however rich of old, 

Discovers little silver and less gold, 

Because Parnassus, though a mount divine, 

Is poor as Irus, or an Irish mine. 

24 310. Not so much 'set off with sentiment,' as with ■ 
that is, ' maxims,' ' commonplace*,' ' gnomic sayings.' Shakespeare abounds 
in examples, such as 0/i. 3. 3. 155-161. Most familiar quotations from 
him are of this sort; cf. Baitlett's or any similar dictionary. 

24 823. Ore relundo. Not 'orotund,' but 'well-rounded,' 'compact,' 
'pithy,' 'polished.' 

24 32I> fT. Cf. the excessive time allotted to arithmetic in many of our 
American schools. 

25 333-3*6. 'There are in truth two aims in poetry, inatruction and 
pleasure. When you would teach remember the importance of brevity; 
when you would please remember the importance of verisimilitude. But 
if you would gratify all your audience you must combine both aims. This 
is the true dauical poetry that lives.' 

2S 333-344. Byron. Iliutifrom /hrace: 

Two objects always should the poet move. 
Or one ot iHjih, — to plonio or lo Improve. 
Whale'cr you traoh, be brief, if you design 
For our ramcmbmnct^ your didactic line ; 
Kcdundnnca places memory on the rack, 
I''ur bralni may Im o'erlnadtil, tike the back. 
t'icilon dgci Iwsl when taught to look like truth. 
And blry tables bubble none but youlh ; 
, l^xpcct no cccdlt tor too wondrous tales. 

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HORACE. 247 

Since Jonas only springs alive from whalesi 
Young men with aughl but elegance dispense ; 
Malurar years require a little sense. 
To end at once : — that bard (or all is fit, 
Who mingles well instruction with his wiL 

25 333-334. (Cf. 343-344.) So Shelley, Dr/inse of Poetry, 13 IB ff. 
(cf. note on 13 2S-24), and Sidney, Defense of Foay (see the Introduction 
to my edition, pp. xxviii-xxiii.). How, in the face of such a consensus 
of opinion, a. modern writer on comparative literature can restrict the 
function of literature to the giving of pleasure, is not quite apparent. 
Poanctt (Comparative Literature, ii^. 18-19) defines literature " as con. 
sisting of works which, whether in verse or prose, are the handicraft of 
imagination rather than reflection, aim at Ike pleasitre of the greatest pos- 
sible number of the nation rather than instruction and practical effects, 
and appeal to general rather than specialized knowledge." He refers to 
Palgrave {^Songs and Sonnets of Shatspere, p, 237} as Saying that " pleas- 
ure is the object of poetry; and the best fulfilment of its task is the great- 
est pleasure of the greatest number.* One would wish to know how such 
sentiments can be reconciled with Matthew Arnold's view of poetry as a 
criticism of life (in Ward's English Poets I. xix. If., and elsewhere), and 
with Milton's "fit audience find, though few" (/". L. 7. 31). 

25 ^0. The ' Lamia ' was ' a monster said to feed on man's flesh, a 
bugbear to frighten children with.' See Aristophanes, Wasps 1177, and 
Keats' Lamia. 

25 34B. Sosii. Brothers in partnership as booksellers. 

26 34l-3ri9. ' Do not suppose I expect an impossible perfection, but 1 
draw a distinction between the bad poet who is occa^onatly good, and ths 
good poet who is, if so be, occasionally less good.' 

26 34Tff. Cf. 3 32-37. 

26 347-353. Pope, Essay on Criticism 153-161 ; 

Whoever thinks a faultless piece to see, 
Thinks what ne'er was, nor Is, nor e'er shall be. 
In every work regard the writer's end. 
Since none can compass more than ibey intend; 
And if Ihe means be just, the conduct true. 
Applause, in spile of trivial &u1ts. is due; 
As men of breeding, sometimes men of wit. 
To avoid great errors must Ihe less commit : 

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•48 NOTES. 

26 3Bl-^se. Bfron, Hints from Horace : 

Where frequenl beauties strike rhe reader's vi 

We musi not quanel for a blot or two. 
But pardon equally lo books or men 
The slips or human nature and tbe pen. 
Vet If an author, spite of foe or friend, 
Despises all advice loo much to mend, 
Bui ever twangs the same discordant siring. 
Give him no quarter, howstte'er he ^g- 


Charilm. Of lasot 

i. a. H 

orace, Ep. 2. I. 


Well had it been i; 

Dr Philip'; 

s warlike son 

If ChfErilus had n 

e'er his favor won. 

Nor to the conque 

ror of th( 

r world had sold 

His doggerel lines 

for Mace 

donian gold. 

For homely verse 

Ihe puresi 

1 fame will spot. 

Sure as ink handled leaves 

behind a blol. 

But be, in cboice of bards s 

o liltle nice. 

Who such a poem 

. bougSa 

It such a price,- 

None but Apelles should his semblance draw. 
And that Lysippus' hand should mold alone 
Great Alexander's shape In brass or stone. 

27 360-366. 'There is in poetry as in painting a difference between aims, 
between a sketch and a finished picture.' 

27 360-364, Pope, £jifl>' on Criticism 171-1S0: 

Some figures monstrous and misshaped appear, 

Considered singly, or beheld too near. 

Which, bul proportioned lo their light or place. 

Due distance reconciles to form and grace. 

A prudent chief not always must display 

Hb powers in equal tanks and fait airay, 

But with the occasion and the place comply, 

Conceal his force, nay, seem sometimes to fly. 

Those oft are stratagems which error seem, 

Not is it Homer nods, bul we that dream. 

With Pope's rendering may be compared that of Byron, Hints from 

Horaii : 

As pictures, so shall poems be ; some stand 
The critic eye, and please when near at hand, 
Bul others at a distance strike the sight ; 

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This seeks Ihe shade, but that demands the light, 

Nor dreads the connoisseur's fastidious view, 

But, len times scruliaized, is ten limes new. 
27 361. This does not mean that poetry is id all respects tike painting, 
an error refuted by Lessing in his Laokoon. Simonides is said by Plutarch 
to have established the parallel between the two (De Gloria Atken. c. 3, p. 
346 F; Morals 5. 403) : "Though indeed Simonides calls painting silent 
poetry, and poetry speaking painting. For those actions which painters 
set forth as they were doing, those history relates when they were done. 
And what the one sets forth in colors and figures, the other relates in words 
and sentences; only they differ in the materials and manner of imitation." 

27 366-373. ' Only remember one thing is intolerable in poetry, though 
allowable in most things, — mediocrity.' 

Byron, Hints from Horace : 

Parnassian pilgrims I ye whom chance or choice 

Halh led to listen 10 the Muse's voice. 

Receive this counsel and be timely wise; 

Few reach the summit which belbre you lies. 

Our church and state, our courts and camps, concede 

In these plain common sense will travel lai; 

All are not Erskines who mislead the bar ; 

But pM>esy between the best and worst 

No medium knows ; you must be last or first ; 

For middling poets' miserable volumes 

Are damned alike by gods, and men, and columns. 

28 374-3B4. ' If poetry is not good it is bad, and we are better without 
it. We forget this too often.' 

Byron, Hints from Haract: 

As if at table some discordant dish 

Should shock our optic 

i. such as ho^ for fisi 

As oil in lieu of butter 1 

nen decry. 

And poppies please not 

in a modern pie; 

If all such mixtures thei 

n be half a crime. 

We must have excellen< 

-c to relish rime. 

Mere roast and boiled ti 

10 epicure invites; 

Thus poetry disgusts, 01 

■ else deiighta. 

Who shoot not flying rarely touch a gun ; 

And men unpractised it 

1 eichanging knocks 

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Whme'er the weapon, cadgel. fiit, or foil. 

None nach eipmness wiUioot years of toil; 

Bat tifly dunces can, with.pei&ct ease. 

Tag twenty thousand couplets vihen they please. 

Why not ? — shall I, thus qualified to sii 

For rotten boroughs, never shoir ray wil ? 

Shatt I, whose &lheis with the quorum sate, 

And lived in fi«e<toni on a bir estate ; 

Who left me heir, with siables, kennels, packs. 

28 385-29 MO. 'Do you remember it [see 37*-3»4]. Do not write unlea 
you are in the vein. What you write submit to some good critic, and do 
not l>e in a hurry to publish it.' 

28 386. Byron, Hints from fforatt : 

Thns think ' the mob of gentlemen ' ; but you. 
Besides all this, must have some genius too. 

29 381-30 ¥n. ' Poetry has had histmicaJly a high misHon. It is not a 
thing lo be thought scorn of." 

29 391 ff. Cr. Sidney, Dffins^ 2 18 ff.; Shelley, Dr/^ist 5 M-6 » 

30 4nf(-4l,%. ■ People ask sornetimes which is necessary to a poet, natural 
([ifts or artistic training. The answer is, 6o/A. Yon need the gift; but 
the gift without training will do no more in this art than in any other.' 
cr, (he discussion in Shelley, Definse of Potlry u-xxv. 

30 4I«-32 437. ' You can wrap yourself up in your conceit, m yon on 
buy applause from interested critics; but you know how woitbless this il 
and will beware of it,' 

32 4,18-33 wa. 'The picture of the honest and good critic, snch as was 

32 434-43S. Byron, Hints /ram Iforact : 

Ye who aspire to ' build (he lofiy ritne,' 

Believe not all who laud your false 'sublime' ; 

But if some friend shall hear your work, and say, 

' Expunge thai stanza, lop that line away,' 

And, after fruitless efforts, you return 

Without amendmenls, and he answers, ' Bum 1 ' 

That instant throw your paper in the fire. 

Ask not his thoughts, or follow bis desire. 

Yet, if you only prize your favorite thought. 

As Clitics kindly clo, and authors ought; 


HORACE. 251 

If your cool friend nnnoy you now and then, 
And cross whole p^es wilh his plaguy pen ; 
No maHer, throw your omamenls aside, — 
Belter lei him Ihan Ihe whole world deride. 
Give lighl to pussies too much in shade. 
Nor lei a doubt obscure one verse you've made. 

32 441. I'he suggestion of the anvil has been beautifully elaborated by 
Lowell {A fViater-Evming Hymn lo my Mri) : 

How glows again 
Throi^h its dead mass Ihe incandescent verse. 
As when upon the anvils of the brain 
It BliKering lay, cyclopically wrought 
By the fast- throbbing hammers of Ihe poet's Ihought. 

33 V&-31 4;e. The picture of Ihe self-willed and self-conceiled poet. 

34 465. For Erapedocles see Syraonds, Slu4ies of the Greek Poets 

33 4BJ-34 4«7. Byron, Hints frem Horace : 

While such a minstrel, mutlering fuslian. strays 

O'er hedge and ditch, through unfrequented ways. 

If by some chance he walks into a well. 

And shouts for succor with slenlorian yell, 

' A rope I help. Christians, as ye hope for grace I ' 

Nor woman, man. nor child will stir a pace ; 

For there his carcass he might freely fling 

From freniy, or the humor of the Ibing. 

Though this has happened lo more bards ihan one. 

I'll (ell you Budgell's story, — and have done. 

Budgell, H rogue and rimester, for no good 

(Unless his case be much misunderslood). 

When teased with creditors' continual claims. 

'To die like Calo,' leapt Into the Thamesl 

And therefore be it lawful Ihrough the lown 

For any bard lo poison, hang, or drown. 

Who saves the intended suicide receives 

Small thanks from him who loalhcs the life he leaves ; 

And, sooth to say, mad poels must not lose 

The glory of that dealb Ihey freely choose. 

34 4T1. BidiRtal. A spot struck iiy lightning, consecrated by the 
hacmpicei, and enclosed. 

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39 I E Throughoul hit potto, Vida is Trequenlly indebted Tor plan, 
thought, or similes, to Quintilian's Instilult! of Oratory, which may be 
found in translation in Boha's Library. Those interested in tracing out 
the sources should read the following chapters of the Institutes : Book l, 
chaps. I, i, 3, 5, 6, S; Book 2, chaps, t, 2, 3, 4; Book S, chaps. 3,6; 
Book 10, chaps, t, 3, 3, 4; Book 11, chap. 3. 

40 II B. Francis was Dauphin of France, the eldest son of Ftancil I. 
Born Feb. 28, 1 5 1 S, he was seven years of age when his father was defeated 
and taken prisoner by Charles V at the battle of Pavia. The next year he 
and his brother Henry were, by the Treaty of Madrid, left as hostages for 
their father upon his liberation. They were ransomed in 1539, and Francis 
died Aug. ij, 1536, at the age of eighteen, while his father wa* still alive. 
The Dauphin had been in captivity a year when this poem was published 

41 33. On the Epic cf. Aristotle, Poetics, chap. 24, and Sidney, Deftme 
e/ Poesy 30 K, and note. 

42 37. Pausanias, Description of Greece (Bohn's trans.) 10, 5. 7 : 
" But the greatest and most wide-spread fame attaches to Phemonoe, who 
was the first priestess of Apollo, and the first who recited the oracles in 
hexameters." Alsoio. 6. 7: "... The Delphians begged Apollo to shield 
them from the coming danger, and Phemonoe (who was then priestess) 
gave them the following oracle in hexameters, ' Soon will Phtebus send 
his heavy arrow against the man who devours Parnassus, and the Cretans 
shall purify Phcebus from the blood, and his fame shall never die.'" Servius, 
the ancient commentator on Virgil, identities her (on Mn. 3. 455) with 
the Ciun^ean Sibyl. 

42 39-10. Cf. Hot. (3-4) 38-10. 

44 7B. Cf. Conington, Life of Virgil (IVaris of Virgil 1. xxv) : 
** Suetonius preserves a very important notice regarding the manner in 


VIDA. 253 

which Ihe jEntid was composed. Virgil drafted it in prose, and then 
wrote the books in no paiticulat order, but just as the fancy took him." 
The passage is from Suetonius, Vita Vtrgilii 23: "Oneida prosa prius 
oratione fonnatam digestamque in XII libtos particulatim componere 
institoit, prout tiberet quidque et nihil in ordinem atiipiens " ( fVoris, as 
above, 1. xxv, note, and z. Ixvi). 

M> llG. Ascanius, sumamed lulus, formerly Ilus, the son of .^eas, and 
putative ancestor of the Julian family at Rome. See j^n. i. 267 ft., 
657 ff.; I. 68s; 3. 545 ff.; 7. 107 ff., 496; 9. 256; 10. 604. 

47119. Lausui. A Tuscan, son of Mezentius. jEit. 7. 649 ff.; 10. 
425 ff.. 762 ff-. 796 ff- Pallas. Son of Evander, the ally of ^neas, an 
Italian chief who possessed Ihe present site of Rome. See /Sn. S. no, 
585 ff.; 10. 365(1., 439! ti.27ff.; 12.943. 

47 121. Euryalus. ^n. j. 294 ff„ 9, 178 fT, 314 ff., 420 ff. See the 
note in Sidney, Dtftnse of Poesy 17 1. 
49 1« ff Cf. Hor. (14) va ff. 

49 IM. Sybiai froHdosai. These Old Latin endings, and indeed these 
very words, ate found in a fragment of Ennius {Annals 6) quoted by 
Macrobius, Sal. 6. 2 : 

49 1S5. For Ennius see note on 5 N, and Lucretius t. llS. 
49 168. Referring to Lucretius' poem. On the Nature of Thing! (trans- 
lation in Bohn's Library; best translation in Munro's edition). Some of 
the expressions here are imitated from Lucretius; cf. Sidney, Dtfinst 
23 31, note. 

S0 168. Cf. y£ii. 6. 883. 

SI IM. Cf. Hot. (30) 410. Perhaps Ovid is meanl. 
51 IBI. Lucan? or Statins? 

SI 183. Claudian? Cf. Pope, fjlaj- db Cri/jV»-// 338-367: 
Bui mosi by numbers judge a poet's song. 
And smooth or rough uilh Ihem is righl or wrong. 
In the brighl Muse though thousand charms conspire. 
Her voice is all these lunefut fools admire, 
Who haunt Parnassus bul lo please their ear, 
Not mend Iheir minds ; as some 10 church repair, 
Not for Ihe doctrine, bul Ihe music there. 
These equal syllables alone require, 
TTiough ofl the ear Ihe open vowels lire ; 
While expletives Iheir feeble aid do join. 

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And ten low words oft creep in one dull line ; 

While they ring round the same unvaried chimes. 

With sure returns of siill eitpecled rimes : 

Where'er you find ' the coating western breeze,' 

Iti Ihe next line it ' whispers through the trees; ' 

If ctyslal streams ' with pleasing murmurs creep,' 

The reader's Ihrealened (not in vain) with 'sleep.' 

Then, at Ihe last and only couplet fraught 

With some unmeaning thing they call a thoi^ht, 

A needless Alexandrine ends the song 

That, like a wounded snake, drags its slow strength along. 

52 193 ff. Cf. Roscoe'i lorinio di' Midici and Life ef Lto X. 

53 V&. Referring Co the invitatiuns extended to the French and Get- 
mans. Villa's work was published in the very year of Ihe sack of Rome 
by the foreigners. For these invasions see such books as George Eliot's 
Romola, Benvenulo Cellini's Memoirs, and Ihe standard histories. 

54 EM fl. Vida from time to time imitates Plutarch, 0/ the Training 
cf Ckildrea {Morals, ed. Goodwin, 1. 3-32). The imitation here is from 

56 2S», The Setius, lul. Scrio, is a tributary of the Adda, which is 
itself a tributary of the Po. Rising in the mountains of the Vallelline, south 
of the Adda, and east of Lake Como, it flows south, passing just east of 

56 2CS ff. Cf. Apollodorus, 2. 4, 9 ; " Hercules was taught ... to play 
the lyre by Linus, who was a brother of Orpheus. The latter came to 
Thebes and acquired citizenship there. On one occasion Hercules was 
irritated at iKing rebuked by Linus, and struck him Head with the lyre. 
Being arraigned for murder, he pleaded the law of Rhadamanthua. which 
says that he is guiltless who repels the unjust encroachments of another, 
and was allowed to go unpunished. Amphitryon, fearing that he might 
repeat the act, sent him away to herd cattle," 

59 310. Tibur is the modern Tivoli, Tnsculum the modern FrascatL 
See Baedeker's Clntral Italy. 

62 349. The Anio formerly parted Latin from Sabine territory. H 
passes through I'ivoli, and empties into the Tiber. For Albunea see note 
on 74 538; it was either a fountain or a forest, but neither this point nor 
its exact site has been determined. 

62 3H If. Cf. Hor. (27-28) 386-380. 

69 482. Cf. Cruttwell, I/isl. Rom. Lit. pp. 157-259. 

69 463-464. For the Balrachomyomachia see Mahaffy, HiH. Creek. Lit. 

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VIDA. 255 

I. go-93. Chapman's translation, under the title, Tht Battle of the Progs 
and Mice, may be referred to. See my edition of Addison's Criticisms on 
Paradise LosI, note on 10 31. 

69 466. Possibly leferring to the stoiy of Arochne. See Ovid, Meta- 
morph. 6. 1-145. 

71 486 S. Cf. Hor. £/. 2. 2. 65-86. 

74 629. Cf. ,^schy]us. Promelkeus Bound. 

74B34. Odyssey 14, 317-330 (cf. 19. 296-299): "He had gone, he 
said, to Dodona to hear the counsel of Zeus from the high leafy oak tree 
of the god, how he should return to the fat land of Ithaca after long 
absence, whether openly or by stealth." The site of Dodona was discov- 
ered in 1876. Cf. two books by C. Caraponos, Memoiri sur Dodone el 
le culle dt Jupiter, Naxos, 1877, and Dodone it ses ruines. Paris, 1878. 

74 536. Pausanias, Description 0/ Greece 10. 5 ; " Many various legends 
are told about Delphi, and still more about the oracle of Apoilo. For 
they say that in the most ancient times it was the oracle of Earth. . . . 
And we read that E^rth delivered her own oracles. . . . But afterwards 
they say that Earth gave her share to Themis, and Apollo received it from 
Themis." Delphi was in Phocia, 

74 638. Faunus. Cf. Mn. 7. 80-95 - "These prodigies disturbed the 
king, and so he goes to the oracle of Faunus his prophetic sire, and con- 
sults the groves 'neatb high Albunea, which is the greatest of woods, 
resounding with the murmur of its holy fountain, and breathing forth from 
its dark shade a strong mephitic exhalation. From this grove the nations 
of Italy, and all the land of (Enotria, look for responses when in per- 
plexity. Hither the priest brings his gifts, and as silent night draws on 
lies on a bed of skins and woos sleep; then he sees many phantoms flit- 
ting in wondrous wise, and hears manifold voices, and enjoys the converse 
of gods, and addresses the powers of Acheron let loose through deep 
Avernus. Here too at this time father Lalinus, coming for oracular 
response, oHeted in due form an hundred woolly sheep, and lay raised on 
their skins and on a bed of Deeces; suddenly a voice came forth from 
the deep grove. , , ." Cf. the Fourth Canto of Scott's Lady of the 

74 sse. For the Sibyls see Sidney, Defense 5 33, note, and cf. their rep- 
resentations on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel, by Michael Angelo. See 
also the line of the Dies Ira, "Teste David cum Sibylla." 

75 644. Cf. Cicero, Ttise. Disp. I. I. 3: "It was therefore late before 
poets were either known or received among us; though we find in Cato 
Dt Originibus that the guests used, at their entertunments, to sing the 

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prtite* of f»mou« men to the sound of the flute." Cf. Tuse. Disp. 4. a. 3; 
Brutus 19. 75. 

74 Wl. Cf. Ilor. (29) 391-3M. 

7S6Mff. Cf. Horace, OiC. 3.11. i3-2a 

79 30ff. Cf. Hor. (11) 138 tr. 

80 Wff. Rererring to the Odytsty. 

82 74 If. Hor. (lOi^aff. 
8J 00. Od. 9. 39-66. 

83 IM. /;. 19. 76-248. 

84 102, Od. 9. 316-470. 
84113. /liad.Sk. 3. 

85 110. Odyssty, Bk. 21. 

85 129. Mn. 6. 890 ff. i 3. 458 ff. i 6. 86 ff. 

86 I3ft-IJT. Ain. 10. 310-313. 
86i»i. //. 16.843-854. 
86143. Alh. 13. 842-868. 
86 I4S. v£n. 10. 495-505. 

88 ITO. //. 5. 7JO-73*- 

89 ISO ff. //. a. 210-377. 

89 iAG-188. Mh. II. 336-375, cf. 122-133, 376-444. 

89 IM-im. On (he assumption that Virgil was the standard, and that 
Homer was inferior as an epic poet, see Sellar, Virgil, pp. 66-67 = " E)«nte 
comliines the revi-rence for a great master, which seems lo be more natural 
to the genius of ItLtklhsn tothalof other nations, witha high self-conlidence 
■nil ■ bold and original invention. Lucretius expresses a similar enthusi- 
Mm for Homer, Knnius. tjnpedoclcs, and Epicurus; and by Virgil the 
same feeling is, though not directly expressed, yet profoundly felt towards 
Homer and Lucretius, And in all these cases the admiration of their 
predecessors is an incentive, not to imitative reproduction, but to new 
creation. . . . The pn^ress of modern poetry was for a long time accom- 
panied — and it would 1>e diflicult to say whether it was thereby more 
obttTucteil or ailvanceil — by a new undergrowth of Latin poetry, for the 
higher forms of which Virgil served as the principal model. Petrarch 
attached more importance to his epic poem of Africa, written in imitatioii 
of the rhythm and style of the .-EiuiJ, than to his Sonnets. The influ- 
ence of Virgil on the later Renaissance in Italy is abundantly proved in 
the wrks of poets, scholars, and men of letters in that age. Ninety edi- 
tioM of his works are said to have been pnbli^ed before the year 1 50OL 
. . . It was discussed as an open qu«sbon whctherthe //idii'oTthe .£i>n^ 
was the greater epic poem; aitd it was then necessity foi the adnuren of 

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VIDA. 2S7 

the Greek rather (haa of Ihe Latin poet to assume an apologetic tone. 
Scaligei tanked Virgil above Homer and Theocritus." 

90 192 ff. Cf. Devey, Comparative Estimate of Modern English Peels, 
pp. Z7S-281 ! Bayard Taylor, Critical Essays, pp. 21-22; Couat, La Poesit 
Alexandrine, passim. 

90 IBS. Lucretius? 

9O20e. Georg. 2. 475 ff.; ^n. I. 740 ff. 

91 215. j€.n. 6. 719-751. 

92 238. ^«. 8.626-731. 

92 232-^38. Georg. 2. 136-I76. 

93 244. Georg. i. 466-4S8. 

93 24S. Georg. 2. 458-474. 

■ 94 254-a89. Ciofy. 4. 317-55^ 

94 360-264. j^n. 10. 166-193. 
91 266. -«». 7. 765-777. 

95 288. ^n. 7. 655-658, 
95 3il. Georg. 2. 469. 

95 272. Ed.^. 40-41? 

95 273-276. Georg. 4, 333-383; cf. //. 18. 35 ff. 

95 276. Georg. I. II. 

95 2n. Georg. 4. 382-383. 

95 278. Cf. note on 24 3IB. 

96 284. ^«. I. 430-436. 
96 28S. jS». 4. 402-407. 

96 286ff. //. 2. 469-473; 16.641-644. 

On the image of the fly cf. Roskin, Queen of the Air, %% 34-35 : " But 
the most curious passage of alt, and fullest of meaning, is when she gives 
strength to Menelaus, that he may aland unwearied against Hector, He 
prays to her: 'And blue-eyed Athena was glad that he prayed to her first; 
and she gave him strength in his shoulders, and in his limbs, and she gave 
him the courage ' — of what animal, do you suppose? Had it l)een Nep- 
tune ot Mars, they would have given him the courage of a bull, or a lion ; 
but Athena gives him the courage of Ihe most fearless in attack of all 
creature! — small or great — and very small it is, but wholly incapable of 
terror, — she gives him the courage of a fly. Now this simile of Homer's 
is one of the best instances 1 can give you of the way in which greeU 
writers seize truths unconsciously which are for all time. It is only recent 
science which has completely shown Ihe perfectness of this minute symbol 
of the power of Athena. . . . But he had seen, and doubtless meant us 
to remember, the marvelous strength and swiftness of the insect's Bight 

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(the glance of the swallow itself is clumsy and slow compared to the dart- 
ing of common house-flies at play). - ■ - Whether it should be called 
courage, or mere mechaaical instinct, mly be questioned, but assuredly no 
other animal, exposed to continual danger, is so absolutely without sign 

On similar comparisons Church says. Essay on Danli, pp. 141-144: 
" He employs without scruple and often with marvelous force of descrip- 
tion any recollection that occurs to him, however homely, of everyday life ; 
the old tailor threading his needle with trouble (/n/ 15); — the cook's 
assistant watching over the boiling broth {^Inf. 21); — the hurried or 
impatient horse-groom using his curry-comb (/b/. 29) ; — or the common 
sights of the street 01 the chamber — the wet wood sputtering on the hearth 
. . . (Jnf. 13); — the paper changing color when about to catch fire . . . 
(/n/ 25); —the steaming of the hand when bathed, in winter . . . (/n/ 
30); — on the ways and appearances of animals — ants meeting on their 
path . . . i^Purg. 26) ) — the snail drawing in its horns (/n/I 15) ; — the 
hog shut out of its sty, and trying lo gore with its tusks {Jaf. 30); — 
the dogs' misery in summer (/»/ 17); — the frogs jumping on to the bank 
before the water-snake (/n/9); — 01 showing their heads above water 
. . ■ [Jaf. 22). It must be said that most of these images, though by no 
means all, occur in the Inftrno ; and that the poet means to paint sin not 
merely in the greatness of its ruin and misery, but in characters which all 
understand, of strangeness, of vileness, of despicableness, blended with 
diversified and monstrous horror." 

On the general subject cf. Bossu, Treatise 0/ tke Epic Poem, Bit. 6,' 
chap. 3 : " We should not make comparisons between noble and ignoble, 
between great and inconsiderable things. But what is base and ignoble 
at one time and in one country is not always so in others. We are apt to 
smile at Homer's comparing Ajax to an ass in his Iliad. Such a compari- 
son nowadays would be indecent and ridiculous, because it would be inde- 
cent and ridiculous for a person of quality to ride on such a steed. Bat 
heTetofoie Ibis animal was in better repute; kings and princes did not 
disdain the beast so much as mere tradesmen do in oui times. Tis just 
the same with many other similes which in Homer's time were allowable. 
We should now pity a poet that should be so silly and ridiculous as to 
compare a hero to a piece of fat; yet Homer does it in a comparison he 
makes of Ulysses. And the Holy Ghost himself, which cannot be sup- 
posed to have a wrong sense of things, begins the encomium of David by 
this idea 1 ' As is the fat taken away from the peace offering, so was David 
chosen out of the children of Israel ' (Ecclesiastic us 47. 3). The reason 


VIDA. 2S9 

of this is that in these primitive times, wherein the sacrilices of the true 
religion as well as of the false were living creatures, the blood and the fat 
were reckoned the most noble, the most august, and the most holy things." 

With the foregoing compare Addison, Speclatur No. l6o; "At the 
same time that we allow a greater and more daring genius to the ancients, 
we must own that the greatest of them very much failed in, or, jf you will, 
that they were very much above, the nicety and correctness of the modems. 
In their similitudes and allusions, provided there was a likeness, they did 
not much trouble themselves about the decency of the comparison; thus 
Solomon resembles the nose of his beloved (o Ihe tower of Lebanon which 
tookeCh toward Damascus; as the coming of a thief in the night is a 
similitude of the same kind in the New Testament. It would be endless 
to make collections of this nature. Homer illustrates one of his heroes 
encompassed with the enemy hy an ass in a held of com, that has his 
sides belabored by all the boys of the village without stirring a foot for it; 
and another of them tosung to and fro in his bed, and burning with resent- 
ment, to a piece of flesh broiled on the coals. This particular failure in 
the ancients opens a large field of raillery to the little wits, who can laugh 
at our indecency, but not relish the sublime in these sorts of writings. . . . 
In short, to cut olf all caviling against the ancients, and particularly those 
of the warmer climates, who had most heat and life in their imaginations, 
we are to consider that the rule of observing what the French call the 
Biinsianct in an allusion has been found out of latter years, and in the 
colder regions of the world; where we would make some amends for our 
want of force and spirit by a scrupulous nicety and enactness in our com- 
positions. Our countryman Shakespeare was a remarkable instance of this 
first kind of great geniuses." The simile to which both Bossu and Addison 
refer is from the 0:lyssey, 20, 15-18 : " And as when a man by a great fire 
burning takes a paunch full of fat and blood, and turns it this way and 
that and longs to have it roasted most speedily, so Odysseus tossed from 
side lo side." 

96291. Mn. g. 7S9-79S, where Turnns in retreat is compared to a 
lion. In the translation, ' llion ' is of course a mistake. 

96 KH. //. n. 558-565. 

97 301 ff. Cf. note on 96 Mi. 

97 306. a. Hor. (12) 151, (2S) 338. 

97 3i»T-ai4. //.e. 119-337. 

98 320. Orf. 12. 395-396. 

98 322. //. 19.404-417; cf. 17.426-440, 
98 323. ^n. 10. Ji5-Z45. 

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260 NOTES. 

98J24. v£n. 6. 893-896; 0^.19.561-565. 

99 329. cr. //. 2. 23-33 wilh 60-70. 

99*32. //. I. 364-392. 

99 33«. Cf. //. 9. 122-157 "'"• 264-299. 

99 33T. y*«. 11. 243-295. 

100 M7. Iliad, Bk. 5. 

100 »60. /;. 8. 1-27. 

1003S3. 0^jj<r, Bk. 11; ^Hno; Bk. 6, 

1003B5. //. 10. 272-277; 13.821-823; 24.290-321; 0^.24.242-243; 
-*•«. 1. 390; 12. 244-265. 

10035«. Oi/. 8, 470-586; Bks. 9, 10, II, 12; 13. 1-16; ^B. 1.697- 
756; Bkfl. 2, 3. 

101 35B. Iliad, Bk. 23; ^tuid, Bk. 5. 

101 %2. ApoUodOTus, I. 4. I; Hyginus, Fable 140. 

101 363. ^«. 8. 184-305. 

101 309. .^n. I. S1-123; 3. 192-Z04. 

101 372. j€.n. 3. 137-142. 

102 314 ff. ^«. 3. 571-582. 

102 381. Cf. Sidnej-, Difiasi of Poisy 6 28 ff. 

102 384-394. jEn. 2. 2^794. 

107 «a. Pope, Esiay o« CriHchm 80-87 ; 

Some, lo whom Heaven in wh has been profuse, 

Warn as much more to lucn it to ils use ; 

For wit and judgment often are at strife, 

Though meant each other's aid, like man and wife. 

Tis more to guide than spur ihe Muse's steed, 

Restrain his fury Iban provoke his speed; 

The winged courser, like a generous horse, 

Shows most true metlie when you check hit course. 

107 4SB IT. Cf, Ilor. (12-13) 166-178, (23-24) 312-318; Arislotle, Potties 
4-2. 3: "To imitale is instinctive in man from hia infancy. By this he 
is distinguished from other animals, that he is of all the most imitative, 
and through this instinct receives his earliest education. All men likewise 
naturally receive pleasure from imitation. This is evident from what we 
experience in viewing the works of imitative art; for in them we contem- 
plate with pleasure, and with the more pleasure the more exactly they are 
imitated, such objects as, if real, we could not see without pain : as the 
figures of the meanest and most disgusting animals, dead bodies, and the 

108 471-177, ^H. 10. 1-117. 

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109 4S0-4gfi. Mn. 12. 1-45. 

109 487. ■£«. 4. 300-436. 
110483. -«n. 1. 561-578. 

110 497. ^B. 2. 77-198. 

110 499. II. 1. 278-332; cf. 2. 18S-206. 
110 601. II. 1. 245-284- 

110 BOB flf. jEn. 8. 369-406. 

111 813. Cf. Hor. (8) 9B-I0S. 
Ill 010 ff. C^ori-. 4. 453-527. 

111 619-KiS, ^n. 9. 431-443- 

112 B30. yEn-n. 165-168. 

112 636-640. j^n. I. 474-478. 

113 W2-557. Cf. 129 1S5-132 230. 

114 668. The poet refers to the invasions of Francis 1 and Charles V, 
lis B7I. yulim. The Cardinal Giulio de' Medici, afletwatds Oement 

VII. Roscoe, Lto the Tenth 1. 20-21 : " During the early years of Gio- 
vanni de' Medici [afterwards L«o X], he had a constant companion and 
fellow student in his cousin Giulio, the natural son of Giuliano de' Medici, 
who bad b«en aasassinaled in the horrid conspiracy of the Pazzi. The 
disposition of Giulio leading him when young to adopt a military life, he 
had been early enrolled among (he knights of Jerusalem; and* as this 
profession united the characleis of the soldier and the priest, he was soon 
afterwards, at the solicitation of Lorenzo de' Medici, endowed by Ferdi- 
nand, king of Naples, with the rich and noble priory of Capua. Grave 
in his deportment, steady in his family attachments, and vigilant in busi. 
ness, Giulio devoted himself in a particular manner to the fortunes of 
Giovanni, and became bis chief attendant and adviser throughout all the 
vicissitudes of his early life. On the elevation of Giovanni to the pontifi- 
cate, the services of Giulio, who was soon afterwards raised to the rank of 
cardinal, became yet more important; and he is, with great reason, snp. 
posed not only to carried into execution, but to have suggested, many 
of the political measures adopted by Leo, and to have corrected the levity 
and prodigality of the pope by his own austerity, prudence, and regularity. 
It did not, however, appear, on the subsequent elevation of Giulio to the 
pontilicate by the name of Clement VII, that he possessed in so eminent 
a degree those qualities for which the world had given him credit; and 
perhaps the genius and talents of Leo had contributed no less Cowards 
establishing the reputation of Giulio than the industry and vigilance of the 
latter had concurred in giving credit to the administration of I^o X." 
llS6MfF. Roscoe, i^ d^ 7"«i/* 2. 188-189: "At thisjnnctnreLeoX 

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264 NOTES. 

sions, which contribute so much to snccess in writing, aie fieqnently m&de 
Ihe causes and foundations a{ opposite failures." Gorgias' ' living sepul- 
chtes ' are paralleled by Shakespeare's ' Our monuments Shall be Ihe maws 
of kites' (^Afacb. 3. 4. 72-73). 

Cf. Pope, Essayon Criticism 315-333: 

Olhers for langaagi all their care eipress. 

And value books, as wometi men, for dre&s ; 

Their praise is slili, — Ihe style is excellent. 

The sense (hey humbly lake upon content. 

Wards are like leaves : and where they most abound 

Much fruil of sense beneath is rarely found. 

False eloquence, like Ihe prisRiade glass. 

Its gaudy colors spreads on every place : 

The fiice ol Nature we no more survey ; 

All glares alike, without distinclioa gay. 

But true expression, like the unchanging sun. 

Clears and improves whate'er it shines upon ; 

It gilds all objects, bul it alters none. 

Expression is Ihe dress of thoi^hl, and still 

Appears more decent, as more suitable; 

A vile conceit in pompous words expressed. 

Is like a clown in regal purple dressed : 

P"or different styles with different subjecK sort. 

As several garbs with country, town, and court. 

128 163. Simile. 

129 186 ff. Cf. 113M2fr. 

131 210 ff. Cf. Sidney, DtfeMse of Potsy, note on S3 le, and Longinua, 
On the Sublimt 13, 14; a part of the latter is quoted in my edition of 
Addison's Criticisms on Paradise Lost, note on 100 B. 

133 234 ff. Cf. Mn. 4. 138-705. 

135 201-301. Cf. Hor. (4-6) 48-ra. 

137 3W ff Periphrase. 

137 309. So Quintilian, l. 5. 66. Cf. Sidney, Defense 55 2B, note. 

137 311. Ferttrricrepas. From Lucretius, 6. 129. 

138 318. Tmesis. 

138 324. The author's source is probably Servius on ^n. 1. 347. 

140 3B5. From here to line 454 is perhaps (he most original portion 
of Vida's work. Hallam says. Lit. of Europe, chap, S: " It has been 
ot)3erved that he is the lirst who laid down rules for imitative harmony, 
illustrating them by his own example." Cf. Dryden's thought on this sob- 
ject of harmony {Discourse on Epic Poetry) : " But Virgil, who never 

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VIDA. 265 

attempted the lyric verse, is everywhere elegant, sweet, and flowing in his 
hexameters. His words are not only chusen, bat the places in which he 
ranks them foe the sound; he who removes them from the station wherein 
their master sets them spoils the harmony. What he says of the Sibyl's 
prophecies may be as properly applied to every word of his — they must 
be read in order as they lie; the least hreath discomposes them, and some- 
what of their divinity is loal, I cannot boast that I have been thus exact 
in my verses; but I have endeavored to follow the example of my master, 
and am the lirst Englishman, perhaps, who made it his design to copy him 
in his numbers, his choice of words, and his placing Ihem for the sweet- 
ness of the sound. On this last consideration I have shnnned the c:£sura 
as much as pos^bly I could; for wherever that is used it gives a roughness 
to the verse, of which we can have little need in a language which is over- 
slocked with consonants. . . . The Italians are forced upon it once or 
twice in every line, because they have a redundancy of vowels in their 
language; their metal is so soft that itwillnot coin without alloy to harden 
it. On the other side, for the reason already named, it is all we can do to 
give suihcienC sweetness to our language; we must nol only choose our 
words for elegance, but for sound — to perform which a mastery in the 
language is required; the poet must have a magazine of words, and have 
the art to manage his few vowels to the best advantage, that they may go 
the farther. He roust also know the nature of the vowels — which are 
more sonorous, and which more soft and sweet — and so dispose them as 
his present occasions require; all which, and a thousand secrets of versifi- 
cation beside, he may learn from Virgil, if he will take him for his guide." 
So also in his Discourse on Satire.- "But versification and numbers are 
the greatest pleasures of poetry. Virgil knew it, and practised both so 
happily that, for aught I know, his greatest excellency is in his diction. 
In all other parts of poetry he is faultless, but in this he placed his chief 
perfection." Note Pope's imitation of Vida in his Eisa/ oh Criticism, 

142 373. Cf. ^En. 4. i8o. 
142 374. See such lines as ^n. 5. 217. 
142 3J6. See, for example, ^n. 3. 658; 4. 181. 
142 377. y£». 1.588-591.. 

142 379-381. 1 have not found Vida's original here. With 380 we may 
compare Milton, On Ike Morning of Christ s Nativily, 172: 
Swinges the scaly horror of his folded tail. 
142 385. Cf. -««. I. 35. 

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142 3S«. Cf. Ma. I. 84. 

142 387. j£'i». 5. 143; 8. 690; the better minuscript* of the Mntid 

lavc ' tridcntibua.' 

56; Gtorg. 1.356-357- 

143 392. Mn. 3. 581-58Z. 
143 393. Mn. 8. 691. 
143 3B6. M«. 8. 87-88. 
143 3M. Mn. 8. 91: 4. 398. 
143 399. Mti. 7. 74. 

143 m>-vs\. Mn. 7. 462-464. 

144 406. JEn. 10. I. 

144 409-410. Mn. IS, 863-864. 
144 414. Mn. 5.422. 

144 41ti. Probably refeiring to Od. 1 1. 593-600, ' Magno molimine ' is 
found Lucr. 4. 902; Ovid, Met. 12. 357. 

145 417-418. Georg. 2. 399-^x». 
145 419, -^«. 3. 549. 

145 421-422. Georg. 3. 416-421. 

145 423. -«B. 4. 594! 9- 37' 

145 42S, j^n. 2. 250. Longfellow has beautifully emnplilied this line 

When descends on Ihe Atlantic 

The giganiic 
Storm-wind of the equinox, 
Landward in his wralh he scourges 

The boiling snipes, 
Laden with sea-weed from the rocks. 

From the tumbling surf, that buries 

The Orkneyan skerries, 
Answering the hoarse Hebrides: 
And from wrecks of ships, and drifting 

Spars, uplifting 
On [he desolate, rainy seas. 

145 42e. /£», 5, 481 ; cf, note in Conington's editiOD. 
14S 42ft-«0, Mn. 7. 6, 27-28. 

145 432. ^n. 2. 544. 

146 435. Mtt. 5. 396. 
146437-43S. ^n. II. 614-615. 

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VIDA. 267 

147 449-4S0. R. 3. 121-223: "But when he uttered h» great voice 
from his cheat, and words like unto the snowflakes of winter, then could 
no mottal man contend with Odysseus." 

117 469. Cf. Hor. (29) 38M90. 
143 4ee ff. Cf. Hor. (28) 386-387. 

148 473-151 506. Cf. Hor. (32) 291-294. 

ISl 509 fl. Cf. Quintilian 10. 4. 3: "Correction must therefore have its 
limits; for there are some that return to whatever they compose as if they 
presumed it to be incorrect; and, as if nothing could be right that has 
presented itself first, they thinlt whatever is different from it is better, and 
find something to correct as often as tliey take up their manuscript, like 
surgeons who make incisions even in sound places; and hence it happens 
that their writings are, so to speak, scarred and bloodless, and rendered 
worse by the remedies applied. Let what we write, therefore, sometimes 
please, or at least content us, that the file may polish out work, and not 
wear it to nothing." 

151 G17. See 147 4S9, and note. 

153 53« ff. Cf Hor. (23) 3M-308. 

154 BBS ff, Cf note on 89 189-190. A further proof of Vida's eialtation 
of Vii^l above all other poets is afforded by his letter to the citizens of 
Cremona, dated Feb. 5, 1520: " Our Virgil, whom I regard as easily the 
first of all poets, not only of our country, but likewise of Greece" ( Vir- 
giliu! nosltr, quern pattarum omnium — nan di nostril lanUim, vcrtaa 
itiam de GrscU toquor — facile frinciftm fonimtu). 

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159 1-«. Cf. Hor. (27-28) 306-386. 

1S9T-I2. Cf. Hor. (3-4) 38-41, 

160 IT. Malherie. In \ni Odes. On Ihese see Lalanne, jVoMw A'f>- 
grafihigut lur Malhtrbe ( (Einirts, in L/s Grands Aerivains dt la France, 
I. xxiv) : " Poetry lo order, poetry inspired by the wish to obtain or repay 
3 beoefil or B favor, this forms the largest and most important part of his 
work from the moment when he established himself >l Court; and, singular 
to observe, among this poetry is the most beautiful which flowed from his 
pen. If ever man had the constitution of an ofiicial poet, that man was 
Malhertie." The last sentence may be abundantly illustrated. Thus, 
beginning in the year 1609, when Henri IV. was fifty-sii years of age, and 
Malherbe himself fifty-four, he wrote, by order of the King, a series of 
five poems, to assist the amorous sovran in his courtship, or to console 
him for the loss, of the young Charlotte de Montmorency, whom he had 
married in the same year to (he Prince of Cond£. The latter was obliged 
to escape with his bride from the Court, so violent was the King's pas«on. 
Sec also note on 166131. 

IValUr. In such poems as To my Lord Prottclor {1656) and To the 
King upon hi! Majist/s llappy Riturn (1660). See Johnson's Life ef 
Waller : " It is not possible to read, without some du[ree of contempt, 
poems of the same author, ascribing the highest degree of /lowir andpiely 
to Charles the First, then transferring the same poTocr and p'tty to Oliver 
Cromwelli now inviting Oliver to take the crown, and then congratulating 
Charles the Second on his recovered right. Neither Cromwell nor Charles 
could value his tetlimony as the effect of conviction, or receive his praises 
u the effusion of reverence; they could conuder them but as the labor of 
invention and the tribute of dependence." See note on 166 131. 

160 IR, Racan, 1589-1670. In his pastoral drama. Lei Bergeries, 
imitated from the Astrie of D'Urff. 

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Sptnur. See Eclogues I, 4, 6 and la of the Shephtrd's Caltndar. 

160 21. St. Amanl is meant (1594-1661), author of the heioic idyl, as 
he himself calls it, of Mmsi Sattue. Cf. Saintabury, Hist. Frinck Lit. 
p. 279. Faret was a friend of St. Ainant. 

Dubarlai. 1544-1590. A French Huguenot noble, author of several 
leligioua poems, of which the most noted was translated into English in 
1598, by Joshua Sylvester, under the title of Divine tVtth and iVorkt. 
Saintsbury praises him hig^y {Hist. Frtnch Zi/ pp. 2ii-aia). See also 
the account given in Morley's pirsi Sietci of Ettg. Lit, 

160 2i-16I 38. Cf. Hor. (23) 309. 

162 39. Batleui said (£« Quaire Poitiqtu.s) : "There is not one of 
these ten lines which does not deserve to be meditated by eveiy one who 

162 se. From Bk. 3 of Scudery's Alaric, with the substitution of 
■asttagales' for • eouronnes.' In this Third Book, about 4S0 lines are 
taken up with the description of a palace, beginning with the fagade, and 
ending with the garden, 

162 6S. Cf. Hor. (25) 33T. 

162 94. Cf. Hor. (3) 31. 

162 65-163 68. Cf. Hor. (3) 25-28. 

J63 75-78. Cf. Hor. (25) 313-340. Line 76 is the original of Pope's 
line in the Essay on Man, 4. 3S0. 

164 3G. Apollon travtsti. Referring to the Virgiit Iravfsli ot Scinoa. 
Tabarin was a celebrated mountebank of the period, 

164 W. IfAssouci. i6o4-i679(?). Translated into burlesque verst 
Claudian's Rape of Proserpint, and part of Ovid's Mttamorphosn. 

Meek Tempest. "Written by Duffet, a low author employed by the 
players of the King's-house to compose parodies on the operas, by which 
the Duke's Company at one time attracted large audiences. Accordingly 
he wrote a ' Mock Tempest,' ' Psyche Debauched,' and other pieces of the 
same kind. The Ursl was so indecent that in Dublin the ladies and people 
of rank left the house to the rabble when it was acted." (Note in Scott's 

164 94. Typkon. By Scarron (1610-1660). See note on 164 8«. 

Flecknot. See Dryden's poem of MacMecknoe. 

164 90. Mamt. See 166 119. Butier. Samuel Butler (1612-16S0), 
author of Hudibras. 

164 98. The Pont Neuf was the customary resort of quacks and Punch- 
and-Judy showmen. 

164 too. From Bit. 7 of Br^beuf '3 translation of Ltican'i Pharsalia. 

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270 NOTES. 

BridU up, etc. From the Stcottd Wtek (see note on 160 2i), First 
Day, Kourth Part. 

165 106. The line illiutrates itself. 

165 113 fli. Tbeie stalemente must be taken with much allowance. In 
some respects the later Middle Age, that nearer Bgileau, was inferior to 
the earlier, and he was misled \yj confining his observations to the former. 
But, in general, be was loo ignorant and unappreciative of the literature 
(^ the Middle Ages to entitle his judgment respecting the earliest masters 
of the several poetic specie* to uncritical acceptance. 

165 III. VilUirt. This is a nickname by which is known i poet whose 
real name still remains in dispute, notwithstanding the Dumerous investiga- 
tioDS of which it has been the subject. His dale is 1431 (perhaps later)- 
ca. 14S5. His poetry has of late been somewhat too highly praised. The 
best known of his poems is a ballade — he has been called ' the prince of 
ballade-makers ' — with the refrain 

Mais oa son! les neiges d'anlan ? 

Bui where are (he snows of yester-year ? 
See Saintsbury, Hisl. French Lit. pp. 156-15S, or R. L. Stevenson's 
Familiar Studies of Min and Books. His works have been translated into 
English by John Payne. Swinburne's version of his Epitaph, or Ballade 
ef Ike Gibbet, may be found in Cleeson White's collection ai Ballada and 
Rondeaus, p. 94. If Villon was the prince of ballade-makers, he was also 
the prince of rascals. 

Fairfax. Edward Fairfax (d. 1635) published in 1600 his translaKon 
of Tasso's ferusaUm Dtlivertd (reprint in the Carisbrooke Library, Kout- 
ledge. New York, 1890); see the article by E. Koeppel in Anglia II. 
103-141. Dryden, Prefaet to the Fables ( Work!, ed. Scott. ( I. 106-207) = 
" For Spenser and Fairfax both flourished in the reign of Queen Elizabeth; 
great masters in oui language, and who saw much farther into the beauties 
of our numbers than those who immediately followed them. Milton was 
the poetical son of Spenser, and Mr. Waller of Fairfax; for we have our 
lineal descents and clans as well as other families. . ■ . Milton has 
acknowledged to me that Spenser was his original; and many besides 
myself have heard Waller own that he derived the harmony of his numbers 
from Godfrey of BuUoigne, which was turned into English by Mr. Fairfax." 

166 lis. Marot. Ca. 1497-1544. The last eminent representative of 
mcdixval poetry in France. Spenser imitated him in pastoraL See 
Saintsbury, Hisl. Frtnik Lit. pp. 17] IT, 

BaHadei. Foi the ballade, the triolet, and the rundcau, see Glecson 

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While's BallaJa and Randeaus. For Spenset cf. Sidney, Drfemt af Poesy 
47 14-lB: "The Shepherd's Calendar hath much poetry in hii eclogues. 
indeed worthy the reading, if I be not deceived." 

166 ISO. Matcarades. The maicarade corresponded nearly to our 
Elizabethan masque. Strictly speaking, Marot did not rime mascaradei, 
as RoQsard did ; the nearest approach to them was his epithalunial and 
other congratulatory pieces, usually published under the head of Chants 

166123. RoHsard. 1524-1585. Was the first to imitate the nndaric 
Ode in French, illustrated by his practice the theories of Du Bellay's Dtfense 
and Jttuslration of Iht Freneh Language, and was regarded as by far the 
most eminent poet of his time. Saititsbury says (p. zoi) : " Boileau, with 
his usual ignorance of French literature before his own day, described his 
work in lines which French schoolboys learn by heart, and which are as 
false in fact as they are imbecile in criiiciam." Ronsard was the leader 
of a band of literary reformers known as the Pleiade, of which Sainlsbury 
justly remarks (p. 197): "In point of fact, the Fljiade made modern 
French — made it, we may say, twice over; for not only did its original 
work revolutionize the language in a manner so durable that the reaction 
of the next century could not wholly undo it, but it was mainly study of 
the Pleiade that armed the great masters of Che Romantic movement of fifty 
years ago in their revolt against the cramping rules and impoverished 
vocabulary of the eighteenth century. The effect of the change indeed 
was far (00 universal for it to be possible for any Malherbe or any Boileau 
to overthrow it." 

Davtnant, at UAvenant. (1605-1668.) Toward the close of his life 
poet laureate of England. He was reputed a son of Shakespeare, and 
is said to have saved Milton's life at the Restoration; the latter story is 
discussed in Johnson's Lift of Milton. Gpndiherl, his best-known poem, 
appeared in 1651. Its metre, which Davenaot sought to establish as the 
form of English heroic verse, is the elegiac stanza, of which the most 
familiar example is afforded by Gray's^. Seen in historical perspec- 
tive, Davenant appears singularly unworthy of even so much pmse as is 
here accorded him. For the Moek Condiberl see Morley's FirsI SkeUh, 
p, 614. 

I66l3l>. Detporlis el BerlauL Sainlsbury, p. Z14: "The lines of 
Boileau condemning Ronsard have inseparably connected Desportes and 
Bertaut, and have given them a position in literary history which is as 
intrinsically inaccurate as it is unduly high. . . . Neither was made in 
the least retenu by Ronsard's failure, and it did not enter the head of 

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272 NOTES. 

themselves or any of IheJi contemporaries, till their last days, Ihat Romard 
had failed." 

166131. MaUurbt. IJ55-1628. Saintsbury, pp. 275-176; "His first 
attempt was the overthrow of the Pleiade. He ridiculed tbeir phraseology, 
frowned on their metres, and, being himself destitute of the romantic 
inspiration which had animated them, set himself to reduce poetry to 
carefully-worded metrical prose. . . . Malherbe is not worthy as a poet 
to unloose the shoe-latchet of Ronsard. . . . The influence of Boileau 
came rapidly 10 second Ihat of Malherbe, and the result is that not a single 
poet — the diamalists are here excluded — of the seventeenth century in 
France deserves more than fair second-class rank." See notes on 160 IT 
and 166 23. 

Waliir. 1605-1687. Johnson, Life of Waller: "He certainly very 
much excelled in smoothness most of the writers who were living when 
his poetry commenced. The poets of Elizabeth had attained an ait of 
modulation which was afterwards neglected or forgotten. . , . But he 
was rather smooth than strong; of the full resounding line which Pope 
attributes to Dryde'n, be has given very few examples. . ■ . But of the 
praise of Waller, though much may be taken away, much will remain; tor 
it cannot be denied that he added something to our elegance of diction, 
and something to our propriety of thought." See note on 160 IT. 

166 133. Coleridge, in his Tahle 7a/*, called poetry "the best words 
in the best order" (July iz, 1827). 

167l4Tff. SeeVida (119)l5fr. 

167 IBO. Cf Hor. (4) »0H1. (23) 30B ff. 

168 III. Boileau has translated the well-known proverb, Feslina lenlt. 
163 m ff. Hor. (22) SS2-294. 

169 KB. Hor. (12)152. 
169 ISO. Hor. (2) 23. 

169 ise ff Hor. (31-33) 419-452. 

173 l-fl. An exceptional instance of the employment of simile by 
Boileau in this poem. 

173 6 ff. Almost the only kind of pastoral written at Ibis time was the 
allegorical, where the great masqueraded as tuneful shepherds. How 
remote this practice was from that of Theocritus no student of Greek will 
need to be told. It is Virgil who is responsible for this conception of the 
pastoral, and consequently for the artificiality which it assumed upon its 
revival at the Renaissance. The idyl which Boileau has in mind may be 
approximately represented in English by Pope's Pastorals. Cf. the lalter's 
Discourse on Pastoral Paetry. liattcux (ijM Quatri Poitiques) would dis- 

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tinguith the eclogue bom (he idjrl bjr atlnbiitiiig to the former more actioD 
and movemenl. 

173 14. This line suggests Vauqaelin de la Presnaye's couplet in the 
66th Idyl of his Secoad Book, where be U speakiog of Virgil as pastocol 

Longtemps aprts qu'il eui qaittC IliuDible Musette, 
Pour feire relentir la supertie Irompetle. 

These lines of Vauqaelin apparently refer to those which, in some nana- 

scripts, begin 'he j^neid: 

^ 111c ego, qui quondam gracili modulalus avena 

Cannen et egressus silvis vicina coegi 

Ut quamvis aiido parerenl arva colono, 

GialuiD opus agricolis : at nunc horrentia Martis. 
The Virgilian lines have again been imitated by Spenser, at the beginning 
of the Fairji Quten : 

Lo I I. the man whose Muse whytome did maske. 

As lime hei taught, in lowly Shephaids weeds,- 

Am now enforsl. a fiirre unfitler taske, 

For trumpets Sterne lo chaunge mine Oaten reeds. 

And sing of Knighls and Ladies gentle deeds. 

174 21. In Ronsard's Eclogues, Catin, Carlin, and Henriot stand 
respectively for Catherine de' Medici, Charles IX, and Henry II. Besides 
these transformations, he employs rustic nicknames, such as Pierrot, Margot, 
etc, Cf. Spenser's Skiphtrd't Calindar, in such lines as the opening of 
Eclogue 9 : 

Diggon Davie ) I bidde her god day ; 
Or Diggon her is, or I missaye. 

Sidney says, Deflnu of Potsy M t^-li : "That same framing of his style 
lo an old rustic language I dare not allow, since neither Theociilus in 
Greek, Virgil in Latin, nor Sannazzaro in lulian did affect it." 

Randal. Scott says (edition of Diyden, 15. 239): "It is difBcuU to 
guess who is meant. Certainly the description does nut apply to Thomas 
Randolph, whose pastorals are rather ornate, and duly garnished with 
classical names, . . . Probably Dryden, if he lilled up this name, was 
content to apeak at large, from a general recollection that Thomas Ran- 
dolph, the adopted son of Ben Junson, had written pastorals." Phyllis 
appears in Virgil's Eclogues, 3, 5, 7, lO; Lycidas in Ed. "j; Stiephon in 
Theocritus, Idyl 7> 

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175 St. In this and line 34 Boileau is apparently drawing reminiscences 
- from Ovid, rather than from the pastoral poets. 
175 36. Alluding to Virgil, £<-/. 4. 3: 

Si cajiimus sylvas. sylva; sinl consule dignee; 

which is thus paraphrased by Conington : " If my theme is still to be the 
country, let it rise to a dignity of which a consul need not be ashamed.'' 

175 38. For the elegy see Hor. (6) 7&-78, and the note. Among its 
cultivators in France had been Marot, Ronsard, and Dcsportes. Accord- 
ing to Vauquelin (^Ar/ Poitiqui I. 523), it had been anciently represented 
by the French tat. 

175 M. Probably referring to the "sonnet to Uranie, which stirred up 

176 S4. Referring to Tibullus, I. 7. 41; 4. 5. II. 

176 68. Cf. Hor. (7) 83-85, and the note. Ronsard, who revived the 
Pindaric Ode in France, and published a collection of them in 1550, 
claimed for himself the honor of introducing into French the name as well 
as the thing ((Eitvres, ed. Blanchemain, 3. 10) ; ". . . et osay le premier 
des noslres enrichir ma langue de ce nom, Ode." But Thomas Sibilet, 
who had published an Art Poelique in 1549, had already used the word, 
and Jacques Pellelier had composed the species of poem as early as 1547, 
not to mention similar compositions of Mellin de Saint Gelais (Fellissier, 
VArl Poitiqut de Vauqutlin de la Fresnayi, p. iv) : " C'est lui [Sibilet] 
quite premier en introduisit le nom dans notre langue; cependant, Ais 
I'ann^e 1547, Pelletier composait des poSmes de ce genre, et Sibilet lui- 
mEme cite une chanson de Mellin qu'il ne craint pas de donner comme 
un module de I'ode," But the 'ode' of Mellin was amorous, and not in 
the least Pindaric. Ronsard confessed himsell a disciple of Horace, as 
well as of Pindar. His theory of the subjects appropriate to the ode may 
be gathered from his Preface .4b /.«/far (tEwvrcj, ed. Blanchemain, 2. 7): 
"Tudoisstavoirque toulesortedepo6sieararguraenlpropreetconvenable 
i. son suject : ... la lyrique, I'amour, le vin, les banquets dissolus, lea 
danses, masques, chevaux victorieux, escrime, jousles et tournois, et peu 
soavent quelque argument de philosophic." Cowley (1618-1667) P"**- 
lished a volume of Pindaric Odes in 1656, a rather tardy following of 
Ronsard's example. Ben Jonson, however, had anticipated him in writing 
(1616?) his Pindaric Odi onlhi Dtalh cf Sir H. ^oriio«, which is con- 
sidered decidedly superior to any of those by Cowley or his school. It 
was Congreve who, by his Diseowst on the Pindaric Ode (1705), was the 
first to display in English a sufficient comprehension of this form of verse. 

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at least since the time of Ben Jonson. The Pindaric Ode, attempted by 

him, wa= not really revived until taken in hanii by Gray in his Progress 
of Poay (1754) and The Bard (^\-}tf>) . The best American ode is the 
Cemmcmoration Odt of Lowell. See Gosse's collection of English Odis. 

176 61. Pisa. Not the Italian, but the Greek Pisa, in Elis, the scene 
of the Olympic games. See Pindar, 01. 1, etc. 

176 63. It was not (he ode, but the epic (/Had, Bk. 21) which brings 
Achilles to Simois, but peihapa Boilcau wishes to indicate that this would 
furnish a fitting subject for an ode. 

176 es. Perhaps referring to Horace, Od. 4. a. 27 ff. It is in this ode 
that Horace characterizes Pindar, 

17660. From Horace, Od. 2. 12. 25-28, where the girl's name is, 
however, Licymnia. 

177 78. Lille was captured in 1667, DSle in 166S. 

177 79. Mizirai. 1610-1683. A historian of the period. 
17S tie. The number of perfect sonnets is still relatively very small. 
17S 103. Martial furnished the model for the epigram. Originally a 
form of the elegy (see note on 6 T7), il became the refiular mold of the 
inscription, the epitaph, and finally of what we understand by the epigram, 
which is not necessarily a bon mot, though that character is attributed to 
it in the following example : 

An epigram is, like a bee, 

A lively little thing ; 
Its body small, its honey sweet. 
And in its tail a sting. 

Here is a translation of a French epigram on Talleyrand: 

But twenty boast of not producing you. 

See Tht Epigrammalisls (Bohn's edition). 

178 105 AT. On these points, or concelH, see No, 62 of the Spectator, 
and Johnson's Life of Cowley. Martial abounds in points, and hence they 
naturally passed into the modem epigram. Cf. also Pope, Essay on CrxH- 
Hsm 289-298: 

Some to conceit alone their taste confine, 

And glittering Ihoughts struck out at every line; 

Pleased with a work where nothing's just or fit. 

One glaring chaos and wild heap of wit. 

PoPis like painters, thus, unskilled lo trace 

The naked Nature and the living grace. 

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With gold aod jewels cater eroy pari. 
And bide wilh onuments dieir want of art. 
True wii a Natuie la advantage dressed, 
Whal Ob was thoughl, but ne'er so well expressed. 

179 113. Boilean had in mind Mairet'i Syhnt. 
179 122. An AogmtiD preacher, called Andre, is spedalljr intended- 
ISO l« K See Glecson White's Balladti and RtmUaai. 
ISO 113. Madrigal. There are (wo chief sorts of madrigals, the 
poetic and the niuiical. The etymologjr of the word is in dispute, but the 
derivation generally accepted is from the Greek itiripa, a sheepfold. 
Hence the earliest madrigals would have been shepherds' songs, and thus 
allied to the pastoral. Accordingly Carducci, the emineni Ilalian critic, 
thus definei the roadrigal (SluJi Lttterari, p. 412): "I'he madrigal is 
properly an idyl wrought with little images, Uvely and elegant in propor- 
tion to the limitation of its space and the parity of its outline " {Jl ma- 
drigalt i prufiriamtnle un idillio lavoralo a pUmU imagini, lanlo fiii 
nitto I vivace quatilo piU eircoscrilto lo sfaiio intro il quale si giro e pOi 
iimpUie il conlorno). As an art-form, the Italian madrigal originated in 
the earlier half of the fourteenth century, though it must have already 
existed fur a considerable time as a rustic song. It so far partook of the 
nature of the Renaissance eclogue as to concern itself with the experi- 
ences ai citizens during their sojourns in the country. Its original form 
consisted of cither two or three tercets, followed by either one or two 
ciiupletsi the lines were hendecaayllabics, corresponding in length to out 
blank verse. Petrarch was one of the early masters of the niadrigal, as 
the following specimen, and its translation by Tomliuson (^Tke Sonnet, 
l..ondon, 1874) will show: 

Nova angeletia sovra 1' ale accorta, 

LA ond' io passava sol per mio deslino; 
Poi che scnia compagna e senia scona 
Ml vide, un laccio, che di sela ordiva, 
Tese fra 1' etba, ond' £ verde '1 cammino. 
Alior fui prcso c non mi spiacque poi, 
SI doloe lume uscia degli ocKhi suoi. 

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Where the fresh E^ass had made the pathway gieeu. 

Not did il vex me (o be made her prtie. 

So sweel the light that issued from her eyes. 
The Italian msdiigal wu imitated io English by Sii Philip Sidney in his 
Arcadia, and the two examples there (ound maj' be regacded as the lirit 
genuine English madrigals. Diummond ai Hawlhornden also wrote sev- 
eral madrigals, and may be regarded as the chief English representative 
of this species. See Schippei, En^iscke Metrik 3. S86 ff. 

The French madrigal has no such fixity of form, and is more apt to be 
of an amorous or gallanl nature. An example is the celebrated one by 
Qemeat Marot ; 

D'avoir trop dit je voudrois vous teprendre ; 
Non que je sois ennuye d'entreprendre 
D'avoir le fruit dont le d^sir me point ; 
Mais je voudrois qu'en me Ic laissant prendre 
Vous me disiez, ' Non. vous ne I'aurei point,' 

Another is by Fonlenelle, on the portrait of Madame Du Tort: 

C'eal icl Madame Du Ton 

Maii qui J'entend en re I'adore 
A mille Ibis plus ton encore ; 
Pour celui qui fit ces »ers-ci. 

Madrigals resembling the French, and often indistinguishable from the 
short love-poem, may be found in Lodge, Wither, Carew, and buckling. 

Already in Italian the madrigal was wont to assume an epigrammatic 
character (Caaini, Sulli forme mttriiht ilaliam, p. 48), and in French 
the Use between the two is frequently difficult to trace, Drummond asso- 
ciates the two in the title. Madrigals and Epigrams. An epigram with 
the structure of the madrigal may be found in Schipper, I. 893. 

It would appear that the musical madrigal ought to be distinguished 
from the poetical, though they may go back to a common source. In 
general these resemble the French rather than the Italian model. Their 
peculiarity is that they were written on purpose to be BUng, They appeared 
in considerable numbers near the close of the Elizabethan period, and into 
the reign of James, and occur in such Collections as those of Campion, 

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278 NOTES. 

Baleson, Farmei, PilkingtoD, and OtUnilo Gibboni. An excellent (election 
may be found in BuUeD'i Lyria from the Song-Books of At Eliiabithan 
Age, London, 1SS9. 

181 HI. For Lucilius (died c^ 103 B.C.) see Horace, Satires I. 10; 
2. I ; and the hiitories of Roman Uteratnie. 

IS2 1R2. Sat. la 61-S9. 

182 163. Sat. 4. 7Z-149. 
182 1«4, 5a/, 4. 74-75. 

182 168. Sat. 6. 1 15-132. 

162 160. Rignier. 1573-1613. In the edition of Rfgniec's works in 
the Bibliolk'equt Ehtvirimnt, the celebrated French architect, Viollet le 
Due, gives a History of Satire in France, covering iifty-five pages, in which 
he trace* its obscure beginnings to the twelfth century, reci^nizes its spirit 
in the Roman di la Rose, sees in Marot's Coq-h-l'dne a homebred form 
of it, and calls Du Bellay's Lt poite (ourlisan a true satire, Pellis^er, 
in hU edition of Vaaquelin, considers the latter, however, to have been 
the founder of the satire regarded as the reviraJ of an ancient species. 
Vauquclin himself {Art Poeliqut 2. 71S) calls the Provencal sirventes 

Chauecr. In Boilcau's sense of the word, Chaucer is not a satirist. 
According to the common acceptation, the name of Joseph Hall (1574- 
1656) should be inserted here. In his Virgidtmiarura (1597) he writes: 
I first advenluru; follow me who list. 
And be Ihe second English satirist. 

Warton, however, enumerates {ffisi, Eng. Poetry 4. 364 ff.) four satirists 
who preceded Hall, namely, Wyalt, Gascoigne, Donne (1593, but not pub- 
lished till 1633), and Lodge. 

183 IB2. The vaudeville takes its name from Vaux-de-Vire, valleys of the 
Vire. Its reputed author is Oliver Basselin, who lived in (he fifteenth 
century, and on whom Longfellow has written a poem. His songs were 
ostensibly collected (ca. 1570) by Jean Le Houx, a lawyer of Vire, but the 
more recent historians of French literature ascribe little more than the 
impulse to Basselin, and believe that the vaudevilles which pass under his 
name are virtually the compositions of Le Houx. Only two ot three of 
them are satiric. Of these I have translated one, the first in Du Bois's 
edition of 1821, and here subjoin it. 

Sordid greed, come thou not near 
When my humble board is spread; 
My rich neighbor now lies dead 

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No. I never will be sucb. 

Eveiy day his house he'd close, 
And within himself would mew; 
Then he'd lightly close the flue. 
Fearing that the smoke he'd lose. 
Wealthy skinflint is not much; 
No, I never will be such. 

The old shoes he would nol weai 
From his girdlestead did wave ; 
Parings of his nails he'd save. 
And the clippings of his haii. 
Wealthy skinSinl is not much ; 
No, I nevei will be such. 

On a feast-day it weie strange 
If he gave a wretch a groat ; 
Then he'd frown, as lost in Ihought, 
And anon demand Ihe change. 
Wealthy skinflint is not much ; 
No, 1 never will be such. 

When he'd boil a salted fish. 

All the brine he'd set aside ; 

For three meals 'twould sure provide 

Is not soup a dainty dish? 

Wealthy skinflint is not much ; 

Straw and flax-hards, piece by piece. 
For his winter hre he bumed ; 
If the way he could have learned 
He'd have sold his bonnet's greate. 
Weallhy skinflint is not much ; 
No, I never will be such. 

Cider by the tun he had. 
Yet he drank but water plain; 
Now he's dead, can we complain? 
Now he's dead, are we less glad? 
Wealthy skinflint is not mitsb ; 
No, I nerer will be sucb. 

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BOlLEAO. 281 

187 34. Thus Euripides in his Ion, Hicuia, Iphigmia in Tauris, 
Hippolylta, Atutromacht, and PhaniHan Damsels. 
187 36. a. Hot. (24) 322. 

187 38 ff. Cf. Sidney, Dcfinst of Potsy 47 28-49 18, and the notes. 
187 38. Refening to Lope de Vega and CalderoD. See the fonner's 

187 42. Thus in Lope de Vega's VaUntini and Orson. 

187 46. See Corneille's Discours III sur la Tragedii. 

187 47. Hor. (25) 338. 

187 43. Aristotle, Potties 9. I : " It appears, further, fiom wliat has 
been said, that it is not the poet's province to relate such things as have 
actually happene<l, but such as might have happened — such as are possible, 
according either to probable or necessary consequence." 

187 61 ff. Hor. (14) 182-188. The critics have much ado to extenuate 
the blinding of Gloucester on the stage in ICing Lear (Act 3, Se. 7). 

188 66-60. Aristotle, Poetics chaps, 10, II : " Plots are of two sorts — 
^mple and complicated; for so also are the actions themselves of which 
they are imitations. An action (having the continuity and unity pre- 
scribed) I call simple when its catastrophe is produced without either 
revolution or discovery; complicated, when with one or both. And these 
should arise from the structure of the plot itself, so as to be the natural 
consequences, necessary or probable, of what has preceded in the action. 
For there is a wide difference between incidents thai follow from and 
incidents that follow only after each other. 

" A revolution is a change (such as has already been mentioned) into the 
reverse of what is expected from the circumstances of the action, and that 
produced, as we have said, by probable or necessary consequence. ... A 
discovery — as indeed the word implies — is a change from unknown to 
known, happening between those characters whose happiness or unhappi- 
ness forms the catastrophe of the drama, and terminating in friendship or 

188 M. Hor. (17) 220. 
ISSerff. Hor. (21)2i6fr. 

189 S3 ff. Of this De Julleville says {Us Myslires 1. 14) ; " Les plus 
habiles s'en tenaient aux fameux vers de Boileau, ou chaque mot est une 

erreur." Every inord is an erroi this is a harsh sentence, but the moat 

capable students of the Mysteries will hardly question its justice. 

190 B3 if. The best commentary on this passage is Boileau's dialogue, 
7'& Heroes of Romanic, which he composed in the style of Lucian. Thfl 

ized are those o( D'Urfe, Gomberville, La Calprenide, Det- 

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282 NOTES. 

marets, and especially Mademoiselle de Scudf ry. Of the latter the Grand 
Cyrus and ClUii are the besi known. These romances had much influ- 
ence upon the so-called heroic plays of France and England, the plots of 
the latter being ofien taken bodily from the former. 
190 IW. Hor. (9) 120-122. 

190 loe. //. 1.348 fr. 

191 US If. See note on 190 S3, and Boileau's letter to Biossette, Jan. 
7. '703- 

191 124 ff. Hot. (10) 125-127. 

192 130. Juba is the hero of La Calprenede's Cltofatre. 
192 133-134. Hor, (8) lOS fr. 

192 I3B ff. Alluding to the opening lines of Seneca's Troades. 

192 138. The Latin is, Stpttna Tanaia era pandentem HHt. 
19Z 142. Hor, (8) 102-103. 

193 143-144. Hot. (7) BB ff. 

194 1B2. Cf, Aristotle, Poetiis 9. 9 : " From all this it is manifest that a 
poet should be a poet, or ' maker,' of plots rather than of verses, since it 
is imitation that constitutes the poet, and of this imitation actions are the 

194Hi3(r. Cf. Vida (126)i23ff. 

194 177 ff. ^«. I. 1-156. 

195 las ff. Cf. Dryden, Discount on Salirt .■ " It is objected by a great 
French critic as well as an admirable poet, yet living, and whom I have 
mentioned with that honor which his merit exacts from me (I mean 
Boileau), that the machines of our Christian religion in heroic poetry are 
much more feeble to support that weight than those of heathenism. Their 
doctrine, grounded as it was on ridiculous fables, was yet the belief of the 
two victorious monarchies, the Grecian and Roman. Their gods did not 
only interest themselves in the event of wars (which is the effect of a 
superior Providence), but also espoused the several parties in a visible 
corporeal descent, managed their intrigues and fought their battles, some- 
times in opposition to each other; though Virgil (more discreet than Homer 
in that last particular) has contented himself with the partiality of his 
deities, their favors, their counsels or commands, to those whose cause 
they had espouseil, without bringing them to the outri^ousness of blows. 
Now our religion, says he, is deprived of the greatest part of those machines 
— at least, the most shining in epic poetry. Though St, Michael in Arioslo 
seeks out Discord to send her amongst the Pagans, and finds her in a con- 
vent of friars, where peace should reign (which indeed is fine satire); and 
Satan in Tasso excites Soliman to an attempt by night on the Christian 

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fiOlLEAti. 283 

camp, and brings a host of ({nili to his wsstance; yet the ArduuiEd in 
the former example, wbea EHscord was restive and would not be drawn 
from her betoved monastery with fair words, has tbe whip-hand of her, 
drags her out with many stripes, sets her on God's name about ber busi- 
ness, and makes her know tbe difference of strength betwixt a nuncio of 
heaven and a minister of bell. The same angel in the latter instance ftoni 
Tdsso (as if God had ncTer another messenger belonging to tbe court, but 
was confined, like Jupiter to Mercoiy, and Juno to Iris), when he sees his 
lime — that is, when half of the ChristiaDS are already killed, and all the 
rest are in a lair way to be routed — stickles betwiit the remainders of 
God's host and tbe race of fiends, polls the devils backward by the tails, 
and drives them from their quarry; or otherwise the whole business had 
miscarried, and Jerusalem reoiained untaken. This, says Boilesu, is a very 
unequal match for tbe poor devils, who are sure to come by the worst of 
it in the combat; for nothing is more easy than for an Almighty Power 
to bring His old rebels to reason when He pleases. Consequently what 
pleasure, what entertainment, can be raised from so pitiful a machine, 
where we see the success of the battle from the very beginning of it? unless 
that, as we are Christians, we are glad that we have gotten God on our 
side to maul our enemies when we cannot do the work ourselves. For if 
the poet had given the faithful more courage, which had cost him nothing, 
or at least have made them exceed the Turks in numlwr, he might have 
gained the victory for us Christians without interesting Heaven in the 
quarrel, and that with as much ease and as little credit to the conqueror 
as when a party of a hundred soldiers defeats another which consists only 
of fifty. This, my lord, 1 confess is such an argument against our modern 
poetry as cannot be answered by those mediums which have been used." 

196 199 ff. Cf. Johnson, Life of fVallcr : " Of sentiments purely relig- 
ious, it will he found that the simple expression is the most sublime. 
Poetry loses its lustre and its power, because it is applied to the decoration 
of something more excellent than itself. All that pious verse can do \% to 
help the memory and delight the ear, and for these purposes it may he 
very useful; but it supplies nothing to the mind. The ideas of Chriitinn 
theology are too simple for eloquence, too aacrcd for fiction, and too 
majestic for ornament; to recommend them by tropes and figure* if to 
magnify by a concave mirror the sidereal bemispbere." 

For the sentiments of the Romantic School, quite at variance with such 
as the preceding, see such criticisms as Victor Hugo's IVefatilo C'rem-uiell, 
from which I quote a few sentences: "There is need, in our ojilnion, for 
an entirely new study on the use of the grotesque in the art*. Una might 

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284 NOTES. 

■how what powerM effects tfae moderns have elicited from this fertile type, 
over which a naitow criticism is even yet quarreling. We shall perhaps 
be presently led to call attention, in passing, to some features of this vast 
pictnie. Here we shall only say that, as a foil for the sublime, as a means 
of contrast, the grotesque is, in our opinion, the richest fountain that natuie 
can open to art. Rubens undoubtedly felt the force of this fact when he 
decided to introduce into representations of royal processions, coronations, 
and glittering pageants, the hideous figure of some court dwarf. That 
universal beauty which antiquity solemnly spread over everything was not 
without monotony; the same impression, continually repeated, may at 
length cause fatigue. Sublimity upon sublimity is ill adapted to produce 
contrast, and we need to rest from everything, even from the beautiful. 
The grotesque, on the other hand, seems to l>e a halting-place, a term of 
comparison, a point of departure from whence to rise toward the beautiful 
with fresher and keener perception. The salamander is a foil to the 
undine; the gnome embellishes the sylph. 

" And it would also be true to say that the touch of deformity has giveri 
to modem sublimity something purer, more lofty, and, so to say, more 
sublime, than the beautiful of ancient times. When art is in keeping with 
itself, it conducts everything with much greater certitude to its goal. If 
the Homeric Elysium falls far short of the ethereal charm and angelic 
delight fulness of Milton's Paradise, it is because there is beneath Eden a 
hell whose horrors are far different from those of the pagan Tartarus. 
Does any one suppose that Francesca da Rimini and Beatrice would be so 
captivating in the bands of a poet who did not lock us into the Famine 
Tower, and force us to partake of UgoHn'o's revolting feast? " 

Upon this point the remarks- of Bruneliire (^L,'£vtilutiBit drs Genres, 
pp. 181-182) are significant : " The restoration of the Christian ideal (o its 
rights over sentiment and imagination we owe to Chateaubriand and the 
Genius of ChrisHanily. . . , By the Genius of Christianity the precept 
of Boileau, who nevertheless knew the yerusalem Delivered, if neither the 
Divine Comedy nor Paradise Lost, stands henceforth convicted of error; 
its purely heathen ideal is convicted of narrowness, of inadequacy, and 
especially of coldness. . . . Classical art, we have seen, is at bottom 
heathen. Its object and its ideal were fixed by the heathens of the 
Renaissance, and its models have remained for more than two centuries 
exclusively heathen. So that it was not merely Boileau who was here on 
trial, but, as it were, the Renaissance itself." 

196 209 ff. For Tasso see Sismondi, Literature of the Soulh of Europe, 
(Bohn's edition) I. 356-391, and Fairfax's translation of the Jerusalem 
Ditivired (Carisbrooke Library, Routledge, N.Y.). 

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196 213- Bat Godrrer was not ' always in prayer,' aa those who have 
read Tasso know. 

195 211. Referring to Atiosto. 

19S S4I. The poet was Jacques Carel, Sieur de Sainte Garde; only 
four books of the poem were published, in i666 and 1670. To us Buileau's 
objection seems almost childish. 

199 251. The Thtbaid of Statius sings the ' fraternal rage ' of Polynlcel 
and Eleocles. 

199 253. Batteoj thinks the Cid of Corneille is open to this reproach. 

199 260. AristoOe, /VftVi 14. u: "The diction should be most labored 
in the idle parts of the poem — those in which neither manners nor senti- 
ments prevail; for the manners and sentiments are only obscurci) by a 
too splendid diction." See also my edition of Addison's Crituitms en 
Paradist Lost, 70 22 fT. 

199 %i ff. Referring to Saint Amant, in the jth part of hii Afatie 
Sauvl. Cf. note on 160 21. 

200 269 ff. Hor. (Il)l3efr. 

200 272. The first line of %z.'aAiTj'\ Alaric (1654). 

200 27»-2M, The opening lines of the A'.niU. 

201 2n. The Orlando Furimg (English traniUtion by Koi«,in Ituhii'* 
Library). Cf. note on 196 217. 

201 296. Alluding to //. 14. 1S7-223. 

201 2w. An adaptation of Ovid, Mttam. Itk. 1 [, Pablo 3. 

202 306, Ilor. (11) 148. Boilcau was accustomed tii eite, aa a m'>i)<'l 
of tersencsa, the speech of Chryiei (//. 1. 17-21) r " Vc miiih uf Atrcus 
and all ye well-greaved Achains, now may th« god* thai dwirll iti Ibi 
■naosions of Olympus grant you to lay waste the .:ily .,f i'rUili, ali'l l<i (air 
happily homewaidi only let ye my ilear cljlld Urs, aii'l b' <:>-pt the raiiiuni 
in reverence to ihc son of Zcua, far-darlinu A|"illii," 

20Z366. Imitated ffin ^uimillBn, la 1, mi, wlirr» ft isHldof < I'"!", 
202 313. BiiileaH sf>''t.ili..-ally t>rWn U> l)e*nmi-:l» i|e tiaiiit H>ii\ui, n\iu 
wrote a poem entitled C/arili. 
20J33SC U-it.Clif-Mtf, 
2(H 343. In Ibe CU»J> oi A'i>l"]>lis»^». 
2(M3S0. The New 0,i|j<-.|/ 1. (»i.- iiuaiil, "f wlii.h Umisiulrr r,(4» 

291 B-C.) was III* tl,i^( f\»'VI<l*U','^. ffi* WilU, .■l.rj,t « /.-* /,uy 

menu, aie Vitt, but tlicir m*Mi'i i> (H'vrvi-d with tii<l,. i.i,t tiiitlituliiru in 
those of Tercnc«. 

20<m. Otur. A •bsr^i'fiii JW J"ita""'> -Vj/.h/ tVuman itUmii. 

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286 NOTES. 

207 m. See note OB 164 «. 

207 3N. It B GtroBte, and doi Sopin, wbo wraps Injmclf np in a bag. 
Sec La Ftmrbrria 4t Sfttfi*. 

Tfrtritt. - In the »*>#«, or Fax, <rf Bm Jonsoo, Sir PoUtic Wonldbe, 
a foolnh politkian, u hb name ittdicates, dbgnises hinuelf as a. tortoise, 
anil is detected on the stage. — a machine much too bicical for the rest 
of the piece." (Scott'* note.) 

208 US. So Demea in the AiUlfJu, Simo in the Amlria, and Cbcenies 
in the Sty^ TarmumUr. 

20S 4ia. So CUtopbo in the pb; last mentioned. 
203 er. Ptmt \tmf. See note on 16* s*. 

209 I C In this paiagtaph Boileao is satiriung Qande Petranlt, not to 
be confonndei] with bis more Qunous brother Charles. 

21014. AfanutrJ. Francois Mansard (159S-1666). IVrm. 1632- 
173}. The architect of St. I^ul's, London. 

210 9 E. Hot. (27) »8 IT. 

211 3S. HtrriHgman. See Diyden, MaiFUiknec lo;. 

211S9. Birgtrat. 1610-1655. ^'^ Jtmriny to ih/ Maett sn^ests 
Lucian, Rabelais, and Swift. 

CoumUr-uuffit. "A tnulesqne poem on a quarrel and scuffle in [he 
Counter-prison, which occius in Diyden'a MiietUanit!, Vol. III. It is 
vnilten with considerable homor, thoogh too long to be tappotted 
thtoughoul." (Scolt's note.) 

211 «. For (7sHi/)Arr/seenoteonl66l2J. 

211 «ff. Hor. (31) 428 IT. 

21148. Sktuhotll. 1640-1692. The rival and butt of Dfyden. 

212 53. Sttllts. See note on 183 IM. 
212 M. Hor. (35) 474. 

212 CI7. Refening to an actual experience of Boileau with Charles Du 
Pertier, who one day talked incessantly in church about his own poetry, 
scarcely pausing at the elevation of the host. Pope has imitated Boileau 
in the well-known lines {Essay on CriHeism 612-635) '• 

No place so sacred from such fops is barred, 

Nor Is Paul's church more sslo than Paul's churchyard : 

Nay. fly to alurs ; there they'll talk you dead; 
For foots rush in where angels fear 10 trea± 

212 69. Cf. 170 IM. 

213 Jl ff. Hor. (28) 387, (32) 438 IT. Cf. Pope, Essay on CrtlUism 
631-641 ! 

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Bnl wbefc'a die hud who couasel on bestow, 
SdU pleased to teach, and yet not proud to know? 
UnbiBscil or by &TDr or by s^Ie, 
Not dnllr prepossessed nor blindly right ; 
Tbo<^h learned, well-bred ; and though well-bred, sincere. 
Modestly bold and humanly serere : 
Who to a friend his faults can freely show. 
And gladly praise the merit of a foe? 
tUest wlh a taste exact, yet unconfined ; 
A knowledge both of books and human kind ; 
Generous converse ; a soul exempt from pride; 
And love to praise, with reason on his side? 
213 IB. Cf. Pope, Essay on Criticism 141-160 ; 
Some beauties yel no precepts can declare, 
For there's a happiness as well as care. 
Music resembles poetry, In each 
Are nameless graces which no methods teach. 
And which a. ma^er-hand alone can reach. 
If, where the rules not far enough extend 
(Since rules were made but to promote their end), 
Some lucky license answer to the full 
The intent proposed, that license is a rule. 
Thus Pegasus, a rearer way to take. 
May boldly deviate from ihe common track, 
From vulgar bounds with brave disorder part. 
And snatch a grace beyond Iho reach of art, 
Which, without passing through the Judgmeni, B«'n' 
The heart, and all lU end at once atlalni. 
In prospect) thul, lome objecli please iiur eye* 
Which out of nature') common order risu. 
The shapclea* rock, or hanafng prirljilca. 
Great win lomeilriiita nioy Hluriuuuly ufTond, 
And ti*e 10 faults Irua crjlicb dam nui incnd, 

213 34. Pcrhapi hlnlln|{ at i'-'mMe'* Deulh af I'ompty f 1641), "The 
great Comeillc," *tS'\ duel, " jiai iwdbiI In mu, nnl withJiul ndiii effort 
and shame, Ehal he prcfcired l.utan In Virail." Tlin tfilk wliu wuulij 
learn to diitinguiih I.U':Bii U'lm Virijil sli')u|i| fctA IllB uM^ un l.ucan in 
Nisard's Paelti Ijttitii Ji lif /ihiiJm^e, a, JiyM- 

214 MfT. (tor. m)m-m, 

214 93 ff, Cf. P'tim, I'.i'ny *w Criliiim %y>-%V • 


288 NOTES. 

214 100. Boileau is aiming at the Port Raj'alist Nicole (1625-1695), 
who had expreised such view! in his Ltllrit sur Us Visionnaires and his 
Traili di la Comedii. 

214 IM. Similar opJnioDS have been entertained concemiag Racine's 

ZIS 110. See roy edition of Newman's Psetry, with Rifirence to AHs- 
telli-! Potties Zl 18 ff.; Shelley's Definse of Poitry 42 25 ff. 

215 III ff. Imitated by Pope, Essay on Criticism 508-525 : 

If wit so much from ignorance undergo. 

Of old, those mel rewards who could excel. 

Though triumphs were to generals only due. 
Crowns were reseived to grace Ihe soldiers loo. 
Now. they who reach Parnassus' lofty crown. 
Employ their pains 10 spurn some otliets down. 
And while self-love each jealous writer rules. 
Contending wits become the sport of fools ; 
But slill the worst with most regret commend, 
For each ill author is as bad a friend. 
To what base ends, and by what abject ways, 
Are mortals urged through sacred lust of praise I 
Ah, ne'er so dire a thirst of glory boas). 
Nor in Ihe critic let the man be lost. 
Good-nature and good-sense must ever join ; 
To err is human, 10 forgive, divine. 

216 130. Corneille is said to have confessed that this was his case, 
when, on a certain occawon, Boileau congratulated him on the success of 
his tragedies. 

216 133 ff. Hor. (29) 3B1 ff. 

217 1« ff. Cf. Sidney, Difrnst ef Pofsy 2 18 ff ; Shelley, Dt/f»s/ ef 
PQiiry S 20 ff 

217 152 ff Cf. 7+ 634 ff, and the notes. 

217 IKS. In his Works and Days (a translation by Chapman, and 
another in Bohn's Library). 

218 167. At this point Boileau begins to lead up to his epilogue, which 
is also a panegyric. He here resumes, by way of contrast with the para- 
phrase of Horace, what was already virtually concluded in line 132. 

218 181 ff. A paraphrase of Juvenal 7. 59-62; the Horatian ode referred 
to is z. 19- 

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218 IW. This is the most serious reproach that con be addreued to 

ZIS 200. For Benserade (1612-1691) see Saintsbuiy, Hist. Frtnck Lit. 
p. 278. He had a knack, in composing masques Coi the courtiers, uf iden- 
tifying the mythological characters of the piece with the actual charactets 
of those who personated them. 

219 183. Scott (edition of Dryden, 15. 263) prints 'Or,' which I have 
changed to 'Not.' 

220 201. Segrais is now chiefly remembered for his translation of the 
i^rnid, to which Dryden frequently refers. 

220 20T. The French and English were allies in the war against 

220 209. Maslricht capitulated in June, 1673, 

220 213. Ddle, Salins, and Besan^on, the three principal cities of 
Franche-Comte, reconquered by the French in 1674. 

BUsHags of p fact. Charles II made peace n-ith the Dutch in 1674. 

221 215. In 1672 was formed a league offensive to France, into which 
entered Spain, Denmark, Holland, the Emperor, and all of Germany 
except Bavaria and Hanover. 

22! 21B. Now Itt, etc. Does this refer to the fall of Shaftesbury 
(November, 1673)? 

221220. Betiicfeai. "A Gallicism for incendiary; in Dryden's lime 
it was a word of good reputation, but is now obsolete." (Scott's note.) 

222 2». Pope has imitated these lines, Euay on Critiiism 739-744 : 

Content, if hence the unlearned their wants may view. 

The learrwd rellecl on what before they knew ; 

Careless of censure, nor loo fond of fame ; 

Still pleased 10 praise, yel not afraid 10 blame ; 

Averse alike lo ftatler, or offend; 

Not free from faults, nor yel 100 vain (o mend. 

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n from Boileau, Eng 

Hi Id 1 leTcK 

AcdusH. 19268. 

Accumulation of words and ideas 

V. 43 sa-44 74. 
Active life must not consume too 

much of the poet's time V. 

65 33^-66408. 
^.neid, see Virgil, 
^ichylus H. 212T9; B. 18971-14. 
Ages of man, the various H. IZlSS- 

13176; B. 205373-206390. 
Amphion U. 293M; B. 217149. 
Amplification of limited subject, bow 

effected V. 99342-101 a 
Anaphora V. 127 143-147. 
Ancients to be imitated and adapted 

V. 129I8S-I362S7. 
Annalist, poet not an V. 8274-77; 

B. 177 73^81. 
Announcement of theme V. 7817-20. 
Apostrophe V. 125121-122, 126130- 

Archilochus H. 679. 

Architecture of the epic V. 73 17 

Anosto B. 20I2B1. 

Arithmetic too much insisted on 

H. 24323-332. 

Arms, descriptions of 92 228-231, 

95 267-270. 

Arrangement 11. 412-48; V. 78 li- 

16.8051-8169; 8,169176-182. 

Art necessary for the poel H. 7 86-87. 

of concealing art H. 18 240-243; 

V. 92227; B. 21380. 
or genius II. 30408-31418. 
Athletics compared with literature 

II. 2&370'3e2, 30412-414. 
Avoidance of one fault leads to 

another H. 3 24-31; B. 16264- 


Ballade 6. 180141. 

Barber, one may visit and yet be a 

poet (f . 22 209-302. 
Balraihomyomachia, see Homer. 
Beauties to be supplied on revision 

V. 93217-95277. 

Beginnings to be modest H. II 136- 
42; V. 7930-36; B. 200'J6»- 


294 I 

Benaerade B. 220200. 
Becgerac B. 21139. 
Bertaut B. 166130, 

Biblical personages in the epic 1 

19S 193-198 236. 
Blasphemy to be avoided I 

183 187-190. 

Blemishes, if Ciifling, to be ovei 

looked H. 263I7-3M. 
Boil can painted by himself 1 

221 223-222 236. 
Bombast to be avoided H. 3 27, 8 IR 

B. 164 99-165 102, 168i59-ie 

192 136-193 144. 
Bore, poet not to become a 1 

Boyer B. 21134. 
BiebeurB. 164 08. 
Brevity in precept H. 25335-337. 
Bmler B. 164 96. 

Catalogs in the epic V. 94 260-261. 
Calo H. 5 66. 
Characterization, fidelity of B. 

190 103-191 123. 
Characters and manners to be dis- 
criminated V. 107459-110495. 
Chariul, Homer's description of, 

blamed V. 88i-(t-89l78. 
Chaucer B. 182 169. 
ChcerilusH. 26307. 
Chotas II, 15 193-201. 
Chronological order, epic poel not 

to follow V. 82 74-77, 
Cicero to be studied V. 643115-390. 
Civiliialion ptomoleil by poetry H. 

29 391-101 ; V. 73 515-76 563; 

B. 217145-164. 

Climax to be provided for V. 

ColletelB- 219185. 
Comedy, verse appropriate for H, 

7 89, 93-94. 
general precepts, for B. 205 359- 

history of B. Z03 335-204 358. 
the Old H. 21 2ai-284. 
Common things difficult to treat 

with originality H. 10l28. 
Comparative literature, study of V. 

Compound words V. 137 305-138 315. 
Conceits B. 178 106-180 138. 
CorbinB. 21136. 
Corneille B. 220195. 
Correction V. 118413-151508; not 

to be escessive 151 509-515. 
Country, poet should prefer to city 

V. 71486-496. 
Court and city to be studied by 

comic poet B. Z06 391-207 400. 
Cowley B. 220195. 
Crazy poets H. 22295-302, 33 453- 

Critic, the true H. 32438-33452; B, 

170199-207, 21371-84. 
the incompetent B. 212 59-213 70. 
Criticism of first efforls should be 

lenient V. 69466-71485. 
should be courted V. 148486-472; 

i. 16918 

: Virgil. 

D'Assonci B. 164 90. 
Davenant B. 166 123- 
Decency to be observed V. 112626- 

113 Ml. 
Delay in publishing V. 147 4K)- 


Demands made upon the tragic poet 

B. 193 i«-iS8. 
DemocrilusH. 222*7. 
DenhamB. ZZOlOB. 
Description should be relevant to 
the theme H. 2 16-22. 
in liie epic, to be limited V. 

of arms V. 95267-270. 
of nature V. 9S 271-277. 
tedious B. 16249-63. 
Design must be single and rigidly 
followedH.ll-223; V.87160- 

Desportes B. 166 130. 

Deus ex macbina H. 14 191. 

Diction H. 416-672. 

Difficulty of the poetic art V. 

140365-141 3W. 
Digressions V. 88 ti!6-93 24fi. 
Discovery in the drama to be sudden 

B. 18855-60. 
Divine origin of poetry V. 73615- 


Drama, characters of, either tradi- 
tional or invented H.9I19. 
Iraditiona) characters of, to be 
recc^nizable as such H. 9l20- 

191 I'J 


traditional materials best for >I. 
IOlM-130; how to be adapted ' 

H. 10131-135. I 

characters of, according to age [ 
H. 12156-13 178; B. 206375-390, 

what to be excluiled from repre- 
sentation in II, 14 ]e£-ig8. 

five acts in H. H IBO-IBO. 

EX. 295 

the satyric H. 17220-19250. 
origirsof H. 21Z76-2M. 
account of B. 1851-193150. 
Dramatic chaiacters must not re- 
semble their author B. 192127- 

Drances, description of, mildly 

blamed V. 89lB6-ies. 
DtydenB. 220197. 
DubartasB. 16021, 164 98. 
Duffet: Mcik TtmfeifR. 164 00. 
DuSouhait B. 21136. 

Echoism {see Phil. Soc. Diet. s. v. 

echo) V. 141365-147454, 
KclogueB. 1731-17S37. 
Edogues, see Virgil. 

ication of a poet V. 4482-71 485. 
Elegy H, 6 75-78; V. 42 4S ; B. 
175 38-17667. 

Emotion, how produced in reader 
ot hearet H, 8 99-9 lis. 
Dust be roused by the dramatist 
B. 1850-18626. 
Emulation to be incited V. 57 278- 

58 285. 
Ennius H. 556, 19250, 
Envy to be avoided B, 215 111-120. 
Epic H. 673-74 ; V. «41-12; H. 
194 IB0-2033M. 
surpasses other poetry V. 41 33- 

architecture of V. 7817-114567. 
names in, should be melodious 
V. 138320-328; B, 198237- 

Epigram B. 178 103-180 13*. 
Episodes V. 81 62-85 123, 
Ethics, ii» connection wjtii puclry 
H. 23 312-310. 

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Eyes convey impressions mote i 
directly ihan ears H. 14 lS0-19a. 

Exordium of the epic lo be striking 
V. 81 8»-81. 

Enposition of the drama must be 
clearB. 186K-18737. 

Extremes lo be avoided H. 324-31. 

Fairfax B. 165 lU. 

Fame as a reward V. 152 821-5^6. 

Faret B. 160ai. 

Figures, caution in the use of V. 
127 148-128163. 
use of, in epic B. ZOl 287-2M. 
File, labor of, necessary H. 22280- 

Finish recommended H. 22292-294. 
Flatterers B. 170 19S-198, 211 41-48. 
FlecknoeB. 16+ M. 
Fluency, on what dependent H. 

1,23 30 

; intimated V, 

Gallic words in Latin V. 136 2U0. 
Genius or art H. 30408-31 418. 

necessary to the poet B. 1591-12. 
Gentleness in the teacher recom- 

meniled V. .S42K-57 277. 
Geography, study of, recommended 

to the poet V. 65391-3W. 
Georgics, see Virgil, 
Glory, not pelf, to be the poefs 

object B, 216l25-2!9ng, 
Gnomic sentences V. 95 278-96^81. 
Gombaut B. 17897,21148. 
Good fellow, poet to be a B. 215 121- 



e B. 16028. 

poets, study of V. 47123. 
exiles, modern V. 48143-49148 
Greeks have genius and liter 
skill H. 24323-324. 

Harmony between sound and se 

V. 14IJB.1-1474S4. 
Harshness, example a 

V. S5*J46-56264. 
Hasten slowly B. 168l«3-IT4. 
Hero of epic must be truly heroic 

B. 19824S-199aS2. 
Hesiod It. 217157. 
Hexameter H.673-J4; V. 41 3S. 
History of vernacular poetry B. 

Homer II. 674, 26350, 29401; B, 
201 295-202308, 203 326, 217 155- 
referred lo H. 11 140. 
preeminence of V. 4Sl34-14e, 
digressions sometimes found in 

V. 88 1*6-89 185. 
Balrachomyomadiia referred to 

V. 69 463-464. 
Iliad '^. 199264-255. 
scheme of V. 81 74-83 Be. 

[Book I. 
245-234:110501; 348;190i06; 
364-392 : 99 332 ; 601-601 : 

Book z. 
23-33, 60-70 : 99 32»; 210-277 : 
89lBn ff.; 1S8-206, 278-332: 
Il04fl0; 469^73: 96236 ff. 

84113; 221-223:147449-450. 


Book s. 
I0034T; 720-732;S8l76. 

Book e. 
119-237: 97 3m-314. 

Book 8. 

122-1S7. 264-299:99 338. 

Book lo. 

Book II. 

Book 13, 
821-823: 100 3SIi. 

Book 14. 

Book iC. 
641-644:96280fr.; 843-8.S4: 

Book 17. 

Book 18. 
. 3S ff. : 95 2J3-2J6, 

Book 19, 
404-417 : 98 322; 76-248 : 
83 100. 

Book 33. 



beginning of H. 11141-142; V. 

events in H. II 145. 
scheme of V. 83 er-»7. 

[Book 8. 

100 3SC; 39-66:83 »»; 316-470: 

100 3D6. 

Book II. 

1003M,M8; 593-600:144418, 

Book la. 

1003S6; 395-396:98320. 

Book 13. 
1-16; 100 3S6. 

Book 14. 


296-299 : 74 634 ; 562-565 : 


Book II. 
85 119, 

Horace [H, 233W-308]; B. 181 151, 

HorrihU and disgusting actions not 
to be represented on the stage 
H. 14 182-188; B, 187 61-188 54, 

Hyperbole V. 125 116-120. 

Iambic metre H. 670-7 82, 19251-254, 

Idyl B.173 1-175 37. 

Ihad. see Homer. 

Iliads, not (o be attempted by 
beginners V. 69409-160. 

Imaginative power of the poet V, 
101 307-103 394, 

Imitation of ugliness may be pleas- 
ing B. 185 1-B. 

Improbabilities to l>e avoided V. 
973M-983'i4: B. 1874J-50. 

Incident, superabundance of, to be 
avoided B. 199256-256, 

Incongruity not allowable I I.l 1-2 13. 

Inferior poets lo be sometimes read 
V. 130190-131200, 

D,o, by Google 

Inapiration H. 22 I95-29T ; 
105 429-106444. 
testtainl of V. 106 444-107 4M. 

Instruction and pleasure the double 
aim of poetry H. 25 333-334, 

Invented characters to be self-con- 
sistent H. 10 125-127 ; B. 
191124-192 12«. 

Invention V. 7711-7814, Hi w*- 


to be learned from the Greek 

Invocation V. 39l-^ 77i-iO, 7820- 

7929, 114 658-662. 
Irony V. 126136-142. 
Italy distracted by war and foreign 

oppression V. 114B6S-115 570. 


1. 207 30 

Knowledge, abundant, requited by 
tlie epic poet B. 202 309-203 334. 

t be 

Labor of the epic i 

incessant V. 87 IM-IOS. 
UMorliJre B, ZII 3e. 
l.ampoonsB. 183181-184204. 
Language to be respected B. 

167 155-168 162. 
Latin poetry, its history sltetched 

V. 49 149-53 207. 
less tolerant of digressions than 

Greek V. 89 189-190. 
poets compared with Greek H. 

Learning, how far to be introduced 

into the epic V. 9020,1-93238. 
Leaves, words resemble H. 5 eo-62. 

Linicre B. 183 194. 

Literature, how produced H. 

23309 fr. 
Love, the passion of, expels the 

creative faculty V. 63 304-6^ 378. 
use of, in the drama B. 19093- 

admissible in poetry B. 21497- 

Lucan B. 21384. 
LuciliusB. 181 14J. 
Lucretius referred to V. 49 158- 

.SOlOO, 90196-199. 
Lyric H. 7 83-«5. 

Latin V. 



Madrigal B. 180143-181 144. 

Magnon B. 211 30. 

MalherbeB. 16017,166131. 

MallevilleB. 17897. 

Marot B. 164%, 166 119. 

Mastery of every department lif 

knowledge impossible to the 

poet V. 65 398-66 408. 
Maynard B. 17897. 
Maxima V. 9S27B-96281. 
Mediocrity not admissible in poetry 

H. 27 368-28386; V. 62 364- 

63363; B. 2091-21140. 
Melody of verse B. 165 103-112. 
Menander B. 204352. 
Metamorphoses described in the 

epic V. 94 262-95 Sfifi. 
Metaphor V. 12044-125115. 
Metonymy V. 126123-129. 
Metre, propriety of H. 789-898. 
Metres H. 19251-21 274; V. 66 415- 


Midst of things, beginning in the H, 

Ul48; V. 81M-61. 

Minerva, inviu H. Z83SK. 
Miracle Plays B. 18981-19089, 
Mod Gendibirl B. 166 127. 
Mock heroics recommended to the 

beginner in poetry V. 69 M2-M5. 
Mo(k Tempest, see Duffet, 
Modesty V. 112526-63*. 
Moli^re 8. 307 393. 
Moods of the poetV. 103396-106+14. 
Motion B. 261 40. 
Motive in writing, proper V. 4250- 

Mountain and mouse H. 11 139. 
Music of the stage H. IS 202>-2i9. 

Names in epic should be melodious 
V. 138320-328; B. 19823J-244. 

Natural science in the epic V. 
90206-91 219. 

Nature, hold the mirror up to II. 
24 317-322, 2S 338-339 ; V. 
1074es-11049S; B. 20S3SS-3T2. 

Neglect of ancients fatal V. 133 245- 

Nine years' delay H. 29338. 

Nodding in poetry, when permis- 
sible H. 27360. 

Novelty, effect of, produced by new 
collocation of words H. 4 46-48. 

Obscenity to be avoided B. 182 171- 

180, 208 4W-128. 
Obscurity to be avoided V. 11915- 

Ode B. 17658-177-3. 
Oifyssty, see Homer. 
Omens V. 86 142-144. 
Onomatopceia V. 141 36&-147454. 

Oratory to be studied by the poel" 

V. 64379-390, 110469-112 625. 

Orpheus H. 29392; V. 75661-76555; 

B. 217147. 

OvidB. 176 M. 

Painting, analogies with poetry H . 

Panegyric of the monarch V. 

115 671-117 003; B. 219189- 

Passions, expression of various B. 

Pastoral V. 4246-47, 69460-t61; B. 

173 1-175 37. 
Patronage of poets by the great H, 

219 179-221 222. 
Pedantry to be avoided V. 89191- 

90 204. 
Pelletiei B. 17899. 
Periphrase V. 137 302-304. 
PersiusB. 181 156. 
Personification B. 194160-198236. 
Perspicuity V. I191S-I203I. 
Phemonoe V. 42 37. 
Philosophy how related to poetry 

H. 23309ff. 
PinchSneB. 21134. 
Plagiarism from Greek, laudable V. 

gloried in V. 134 267-203. 
Plaulua H. 554, 20270. 
Pleasure and instruction the double 

aim of poetry II. 23333-334, 

343-344; B. 213 85-214 90. 
Poetry eventually Hi ed by the pupil 

for Its own sake V. 58280-59311. 
to be constantly studied by the 

poel V. 66409-411. 
of divine origin V. 73515-76S63. 

D,o, by Google 

300 IM 

Foeu piotected by Heaven V. 

7H9T-73 5I4. 
Poinls B. 17810S-1801M. 
Powers, do not exceed your H. 

3»4*o; B. 159ia, 160is.-a, 
Priise of poetry H. 29»l-30*»7; 

V. 7JSl»-766«; B, 216139- 


Precept, brevity in H. 25 136-337. 

Premature developiDent, danger of 

Primitive poets B. 165ll3--ll«. 

E'rcihahility to be obset/ed in trag- 
edy B. 18747-50. 

Prophecy V. 85 ii!4~87t47. 

Prmaic soulx to be given ap by the 
leaehec V. S93li-6I 333. 

PriHe draft ot a pi^tn V. 447B-79. 
to be studied liy the embryo poet 

V. 64370-3»n. 
poem to be turned into V. 

I'urpU patches II. 2 16-1 s. 

Purpise, poem* muM be judged 
according to Cbeir 11.27 3ei-30S. 

Racan B. JOOlS. 

Racine 11. 220 107. 

Rampale B- 211 3S. 

Randal B. 174*.n. 

Reading as a means of inapi 

V. 10,S423-im 
ReoBonB. 16027-162 4S. 
R<.-.TCBtion should alternate witl 

labor V. 61 340-62 3.W. 
Hcflectlnn demanded uF Ihe epi< 

pcct V. 87 160-88 IGT, ; B 

167 147-104. 
Kegnier B. ISZing. 
Kepealeil blundering II. 26 3S3-..-tr«. 


Repetition to be avoided V. 98S5- 

Revision V. 1074SI-4H. 
Revolution B. ISSSS-W. 
Rich men scarcely able lo find severe 

critics H. 31 «a-32 437. 
Rime to be subservient to sense B. 

16027-161 3». 
Roman inferiority in poetic art H. 

19258-21 274. 
Rondeau a ISOHD. 
Ronsard B, 166123, 17421, 

Satire B. 181 146-132 1B>. 
Scatron : Tyfiioa B. I6t M. 
Segrais B. 2202m. 
Selection of masterpieces for study 

V. 47130-48133. 
Sense to rule the words and rimes 

V. 139329-I403M; B. 16027- 


Sentences V, 95279-962S1. 


Settle B, 212 B3. 

ShadwellB. 21148. 

Shield of /Eneas V. 92 228-231. 

Ships changed to islands V. 98 313. 

Simile V. 962S2-97303, 128 163-169. 

Socrates referred to H. 23310. 

Song, a single good one does not 
make a poet B. 183 191-13420*. 

Sonnet B. 17782-178102. 

Sophocles B. 13975-80. 

Spenser B. 16018, 166119, 220195. 

.Spondee H. 19256. 

Subject, how to choose H. 3 38-441 ; 
V. 42 39-40. 
announcement of V. 73 17-20. 
to be deeply pondereil V. 43 Bi- 
ol, 66412-414. 

D,o, by Google 

a limited, to be chosen V. 99339- 

a limited, how amplilied, V. 
99 912-101366. 
Suspense, to create and maintain 

V. 7930-8S m. 
Syncope V. 138318-328. 

Tasso B. 196209. 

Teacher, choice of V. 45 88-46 108, 
53 216-54 231. 

Teaching of poetry V. S4 232^71 4M. 

Ten times repeated, some things 
shall please H. 27 305. 

Terence B. 207390, 208 «B. 

Tbeocritua B. 174 20. 

ThespisH. 21276. 

TibullusB. 176m. 

TmewsV. 138316-317. 

Totality of effect preferable to per- 
fection of deUil II. 332-37. 

Tragedy H. 7 90-91, 8 90-WI ; B, 

Travel recommended to the poet 
V. 65 WI-3R2. 

Trimeter H. 192S2 ff. 

Triviality to lie avoided in the epic 

a 199 257-200 2<». 

Type* lit humanity l" I* ilintritni- 
nated II.91I4-1IN, I2lr,n-I,1 un, 
Typhon, see Sclrron. 
TyrtsiB H. 29*12. 

Uglinei^ imitaliiin nf. may Ih: fili-a*- 

int; B. 185 l-H. 
Uiage the Uv of lanKoaK'^ ". 

Unili«, the B. I%;w-K. 
Unity and .im|,l».ily^M i.-.i 

;X. 301 

Vanity, the author's B. 170200- 

Variety of talents B. 160 13-18. 
essential V. 12032-I3i B. 1M«»- 

Varius H. 5 H. 

Vaudeville It. 1S3 181-184 204. 
Versifying, practice in V, 66420- 

Vida's acope and ambition V. 

1 52 527-1 54 563. 
Villon B. 165117. 
Virgil H. Sm; V. SOino-51177; B, 

17420, 20332.'., 213 84, 
ai a model V. 46 111-47 12a, S3 2(«- 


[ll'N.k I. 
1 If. : Z00l78-a«i I-ISf.l 

194i77fr,i.lSil4ZiWj«l )Z,1i 
lOlfoHi! IH : \\ ll» i 
143 aiM i Zfi7(r.i4ftiim .Ml i 
lOOswi 4,10 4,)rii%i.Mi 474 
478: IlZr^ Moi .Sfil S7N t 

1 10 4<i 

5HH 1 

I I4Zh: 

657 nr, !4f.llfl! W7 7.'.6 I 

J0<)3r,ni 74"rf.iWw), 

Y*>:m; 77 !'«! I104W! Z4li 
nsva ; ZV\: in to.; VM 

7Vti HC»M ^*i: '•'ti: W'Ui; 

MlTtui: 137 142 ; 101 nn-, 
Vri 2fl1 -. 101 m; 4W «. : 
hi rai; 115 IS. : -tf. ur,: Wl : 
1i;ili.; *71 ■■,■".2 : \liZ x7t ft ; 
5SI V-il: \n:w. f,=M: I4ZK.V 

D,o, by Google 

105-168: 11ZB30; 180:H23:a; 
181 : M2 37B ; 238-70S ! 

133 234 ff.; 300-436: 109 ««; 
398:143398; 402^07;96a»; 
S»4: 145423. 

Book $. 
101 3t» ; 143 : 142 387 -, 217 : 
14Z374; 294 ff.:47l21i 396; 
146 4311; 422 : 1+4 414; 481: 

145426; 866 
Book 6. 

: 14336 

890 ff. : 85 m ; 893-896 ; 
98 324. 

Book 7. 
6:145429-1301 27-28:145 429- 
430; 74:143399; 80-95:74536; 
107 ff. : 46 116 ; 462-464 : 
143 4*0-401 ; 496 : 46 115 ; 

649 ff. : 47 119; 655-658 : 95 268; 

87-88: 143 395; 91 : 143 3%; 
110:47119; 134-305:101363; 
369-406: 110 505 ff ; 585 ff.: 
471IB; 626-731:92 238; 690: 
14238T; 692:143393. 

37 : 145^! 178 ff. : 47 121; 
256:46iiB; 324 ff. : 47 I2i; 
420 ff. : 47 121 ; 431-443 ; 

11U19-626; 789-798:96291. 

Book 10. 
1:144406; 1-117:108472-477; 
166-193:94 200-204; 225-245; 
98323; 291:143380; 310-313; 

8613S-137; 36Sff.,42.';ff,439: 
47il»; 495-505:86145; 604: 
46115; 762ff.,796ff.:47ii9. 

Book ti. 
27ff.:47ll9; 122-132:39196- 
1B8; 243-295:9933-; 336-375. 
376-444:89186-188; 384-386: 
127141; 614-615:146437-438. 

Book 12. 
1-45 ; 109 460^85 ; 244-26S : 
10035S; 842-868:86143; 863- 
864;I444»9-4I0; 943:47119.] 

[Book 4. 
3:17535; 58-59:127146. 

40-41:95 232.] 

[Book 1. 
9 : 126m; U : 9S2T8; 3.56- 
357 : 143 388-389 ; 466-488 : 


136-176:92233-238; 399-400: 
145 417-418 ; 453-474 : 93 245; 
469:95271; 47Sff.:9020e. 

Book 3, 

416-421:145 421-422. 

Book 4. 

317-558:942V4-259; 333-383: 

95 273-275 ; 382-383 : 95 2J7 ; 

Virtue to be inculcated B. 214 91-96. 
Visual influences most powerful H. 

14 180-182. 
VisualiiinB power of the poet V. 

Vulgarity to be avoided B. 163 79- 


Waller B. 160 17, 166 isi, 220 196. 
War, whether the poet should en 

gage in V. 6S396-S97. 
Whetalone, Horace as a H. 23 3M. 
Words, coinage of H. 44S-59. 
grow antiquated H. 5fiU-6;2. 

X. 303 

old ones may be revived H. 6td; 

V. 1362M-137301. 
and ideas, accumulation of V. 

43 62-44 74. 
choice of V. 129(70-194. 
to lie subaervient to sense V 

139 329-140 3M. 

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Minto'a Manual of English Prose Literature- 

Designed mainly to show cLurauterislii;! of style. By Wu.LUJl M(il?o, 

H.A., Professor of Logic iind i.iigliBli Literature iu tlie UiiiverBity ol 

Aberdeen, Scoclaud. I'Jrao. Clotti. SlXi pages. Mailiug pri<:e, S'.^i 

tor iDiroduciioa, tlM; sJluwaDce, 40 cema. 
rpHE iiiaiu design is to assist in dirratiiig students to English 
composition to the luerits and defects of the principal writers 
of prose, eiiabliog tbem, in some degree at least, to acquire the one 
and avoid the other. The Introduction aualyzes style; elements 
of stj-le, qualities of style, kinds of composition. Part First gives 
exhaustive analyses of De Quincej, Macaulay, and Carlyle. These 
serve as a key to all the other authors treated. Fart Second takes 
up the prose authors in historical order, from the fourteenth cen- 
tury up to the early part of the nineteenth. 

Hiram Conoit, Prof. Engiieh Lit- 
erasure, VomtU University : With- 
out goiDg outside at this book, an ear- 
nest student could get a knowled^ 
of English prose stylea, based on the 
soundest principles of criticism, such 
as he cocld not get in any twenty 
' volumes which I know of. 

KstberiBe \»t Bates, Prof, of 
Enfflinh. Wdletley College: It is of 
sterling value. 

John H. Elli», Prof, of Sni/lish 
Littradire, Oherlin College: I am 
nsing it for reference with great in- 

terest. The criticisms and comments 
on authors are admirable — the best, 
on the whole, that I have met with 
in any text-book. 

J. Scott Clailt, Fro/, of Shstoric, 
t!l/rtiuuae Uiiiveriitu : We have now 
given Minto's English Prose a good 
trial, and 1 am so much pleased that 
I want some more of the same. 

A. W. Long, Wafurd College, Spar- 
tanburg, S.C. : I have used Minto's 
Engliah Poets and English Prose the 
past year, and am greatly pleased 
with the results. 

The Introduction to Minto's English Prose. 

Minto's Characteristics of the English Poets. 

from Chaucer to Shirlef. 

By Whljam Mihto, M.A., Professor of I.Agic and English Literature 

in (lin Universitv nf Aberdeen, Scotland. 12mo. Cloth. xi + 382 pages. 

Mailing price, 8I,(B; for inlrodnction, JliO; allowance. 40 cents. 
rrilE chief objects of the author are: (1) To bring into clear 
light the characteristics of the several poets: and (2) to trace 
how far each was influenced by his literary predecessors and his 

by Google 


Sidney's Defense of Poesy. 

Edited iritb an IntroductioD and Notes by Albert 8. Cook, FrofenBoi 
ot EnglJHh Id Yale University. 12mo. Cloth, xlv + 103 pages. By 
mail, w cents ; for introductiuD, SO cents. 

AS a clitssic t«xt-book of literary esthetics, Sidney's' Defense 
has etiiluring interest and value; but there is another good 
reason for the marked attention received bj this book. The whole 
conception of the editor's work differs from the conventional idea. 
The notes are not mere items of learning, illustrative only of 
details. They are iiit«nded so to supplement the text of the 
author and the Introduction that the study of the connected 
whole, on linea indicated by the Specimen Questions and Topics, 
shall be a cumulative process, expanding and enriching the mind 
of the student, as well as informing it regarding the views of a 
distinguished and representative man who lived in one of the most 
vital periods in the history of our literature. This idea will make 
itself manifest as the cumulative process is cairied on. Something 
of the character of Sidney as a man, of the grandeur of bis theme, 
of the significance of poetry, of sound methods of profiting by 
poetry and of judging it, — ought to be disclosed by study of the 
book. Everything is considered with reference to the learner, as 
far as possible; and the point of view is not exclusively that of 
the grammarian, the antiquaiy, the rhetorician, or the explorer of 
Elizabethan literature, but has been chosen to ioclude something 
of all these, and more. 

Beorge L. Eittredge, Prof, of 
Enyliah. Harvard University : It is 
extremely well done, and ought to 
be eitreniely useful. 

VUliam ICnto, Prof, of Litera- 
ture, University of Aberdeen : It 
fery thorough 

ork. The 

tsof the stiideuC are consulted 
In every neDtence of the Introduction 
and Notes, and the paper of questions 
Is admirable as a guide to the thor- 
ough stndy of the substance of the 
ensay. There is no surplusage, no 

r. B. Oununere, Prof, of Engtith 
aiid German, Haverford CoUeye: It 
is a wholly admirable piece ot work, 
and has already done good service Id 
my class. 

John T. Qennng, Profettor of 
Rhetoric, Jmhertl College : It is the 
work of a true scholar, wbo at every 
step is mindful not only of the inter- 
rat ot the work as a monument of the 
past, hut of its value tor all time as 
an exposition of the art ot poetry. 
Introduction and notes are alike ex- 
cellent, and the tasteful print and 
binding leave nothing to be desired. 

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SheHey's Defense of Poetry. 

Edited, with Introduction and Notee. by Aiaert S. Cook, Professor of 

KngHnli in Yale Uuiversity. I2mo. Cloth, xxri * Hti pages. Price by 
ma^ HO cente ; for introduction, 50 cents. 

CJHELLKY'S IMfenne may be uegarded as a conipauioii-piece to 
thut of Sidney. Iii their diction, however, the one ia of the 
aixleeuth century luid the other of the nineteeath. For this reason . 
a coQiparison of the two is of interest to the student of historical 
English style. But, apsjt from ^is, the intriusic merits of Shelley's 
essay must ever recommend it to the lover of poetry aud of beauti- 
ful Euglish. Tlie truth which he perceives and expounds is one 
which peculiarly needs enforcement at the present day, and it ia 
nowhere presented in a more oonciae or attractive form. 

lobllF. Gannng, Pro/.c/AAfrorir, the introdnctiona and uotes, which 
Anilnrnt College: By his excellent | evince in every part the thorough and 
IB of these three works, Frofes- sympathetic scholar, as also in the 

ir Cook is doing invaluable 
)r the study of poetry. The works 
lemselves, writteu by men who were 
laatera alike of |x»etry apd prose, 
re staudard as literature; and in 

beautiful fonn given to the books b; 
printer and binder, the student has 
all the help to the reading ol them 
that be can desire. 

Cardinal Newman's Essay on Poetry, 

With reference to Arislotle'a Poetics. Edited, witli Introduction and 
Notes, by Albbbt S. CuuK, Professor of Ent;l<ah in Yale University. 
8vo. I.iinp cloth, x -i- 'JB pajtes. Mailing price, 'M oenls; for introduc- 
tion, 30 cents. 

rPHE study of what is essential and what accidental in poetry is 
more and more engaging the attention of thoughtful men, 
particulai'ly those occupied with educational work. Newman's 
Essay expresses the view of one who waa a man of both action 
aud theory. Besides this, the Esiaj/ is a notable example of the 
literary work of one who has been considered the great'-at master 
of style in this generation. The illustrative apparatns proviile<] hy 
the editor includes practical hints on the study of (Jreiik drama in 
English, an index, an analysis, and a few suggestive notfls, 

Hiiam COTMHI, Prhf. r,f EnglifhAmultiim (n purw Wt of writInK; nn'l 
Cornell Unlx^rtttT/. In lis ediUirial the notes *how Ihe rurhf.r'-bf. si'liolar- 
character It's an Hi'Rant plnif! of |shlp.or Die nlitor, 
work. . . . The Introduction Is ai 

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